


The Fireroasted Songbook

by fireroasted



Category: Mamamoo
Genre: Experimental Style, F/F, One Shot Collection, Slam Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-04-04 14:33:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 77,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14022342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireroasted/pseuds/fireroasted
Summary: A Wheesa and Moonsun one-shot collection based on songs and other things.





	1. Operator by Lapsley

“Welcome to Ahn Chicken. Chicken any time, any day. Ahn Hyejin speaking, how may I help you?”

“Heeeeeey…you’re speaking…too fast, Miss Chicken. I can’t…heeee….”

“…”

“…”

“Miss, are you still there?”

“My name isssss…”

“…”

“…”

“Hey, do you want chicken or not?”

“Wheein.”

“Excuse me?”

“My name is Wheein, and you are…a…pretty voice…mmm…”

“…Okay then, Miss Wheein. What can I get for you?”

“You can get…what can you get…how about you get…how about you get my useless stupidhead of a boyfriend to call me once in a while?”

“This is a fried chicken joint. I think you got the wrong number.”

“No.”

“…”

“No.”

“Sorry, what?”

“I don’t want chicken.”

“…Will you give me a moment? I’m going to put you on hold for a second.”

“Wait! Don’t put me on hold. Please. I’m...I’m…I…”

“Miss Wheein, please wake up.”

“I like your voice. Like a lot. Don’t put me on hold, okay?”

“…”

“Sighing ruins your voice, Miss Chicken.”

“Listen, I don’t know why a girl like you is drinking alone at 3am, but all I wanna know is whether you want chicken. I don’t give a shit about your ‘stupidhead’ boyfriend, but if he’s not calling you, then maybe you should call him.”

“I…I caaaaaaaaaaan’t!”

“…”

“…”

“Oh my god, please don’t cry. I hate when girls cry.”

“…”

“Ugh. Do you want to…talk about it?”

“…”

“…Seriously, stop sniffling. It’s freaking me out.”

“…He…He’s abroad. He…travels a lot. A lot. He’s a writer. I think. Baseball player?”

“You don’t know what he does? Where the hell does he go? There’s a thing called the Internet.”

“I’ve…left…so many messages. I used to. He says…he says he’s busy and his phone…broke…annnnd he’s…thinking of me always, but he won’t…he won’t call me!”

“…”

“I…he…Sometimes I think about leaving him, but then he’ll send me a post card every few months and…”

“Wake up, Miss Wheein. Wherever you are, you probably shouldn’t sleep there.”

“…”

“Hello? Wheein?”

“Should I leave him?”

“Oh god. I can’t answer that for you, Miss. I’m just a humble chicken hut phone operator.”

“Maybe I’ll fall in love with you. Your voice really…is beautiful…and kind…”

“…”

“…”

“Maybe you’re drunk, Miss Wheein. Maybe you need to go home.”

“…What’s your name, Miss Chicken?”

“…Seriously?”

“C’moooooon. You know miiiiine. And stop calling me miss…it’s so formal and stuff…”

“Okay Wheein. Happy?”

“Tell me your naaaame. Please.”

“…”

“…”

“It’s Hyejin.”

“Hyejin.”

“Yes.”

“It’s perfect.”

“…Right.”

“You’re great.”

“And you’re drunk, Wheein. So quit throwing your life away over some douche and get yourself home.”

“You want to hang up.”

“Yeah, look, I can’t—”

“Don’t go. Don’t hang up.”

“…”

“Don’t go. Please. I’m…I like your company, Hyejin. I’ve…been so lonely.”

“I see that.”

“…”

“…”

“That was a big sigh.”

“Alright, Wheein, what do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t knooooow…I….mmm….”

“Quit falling asleep. As romantic as that sounds, I’m not staying on the line just to listen to you breathe.”

“HA! You’re funny, Hyejin.”

“Glad I can help. You...have a nice laugh. You should do it more often.”

“Mmm…It’s been…hard, I guess.”

“…Alright, how about this... Since your boyfriend hasn’t called in a while, why don’t you pretend I’m him? Pretend you’re talking on the phone with him right now. What would you say?”

“I’d…I’d call you a stupidhead and I’d say…I’d say that you’re the worst boyfriend ever.”

“Done. More. Get it all off your chest.”

"And I hate you."

"Good."

"Like a lot."

"Even though I love you?"

"...Whaa?"

"Just roleplaying, Wheein. Chill."

"Okay, um, well... I...love...you too?"

"You don't sound very sure. C'mon. You can be honest. I haven't called in months, and I'm having the time of my life. I don't really give a shit about what you're doing, but I've sent you post cards."

“I...I hate your stupid post cards because all you ever write is ‘I love you’ and it feels like you don’t mean it. You don’t call. You don’t care. You told me that you don’t have a phone, but I see you on KaTalk all the time, and you’re always with somebody, and you’re a dirty liar! I miss you so much and all you do is lie to me, and I hate you. I hate you so much, and I wish you wouldn’t send those beautiful post cards, but they’re the only thing I look forward to, and I hate myself for it!”

“Hey, hey, hey, Wheein. Shhhh, you’re breaking my eardrum. It’s okay, it’s—oh god, are you crying again? This was a terrible idea. Please don’t cry.”

“...”

“...It’ll be okay.”

“...I’m…I’m sorry, I c-can’t…I-I c-c-can’t s-stop. It’s...it’s…it’s too much. No, no, no, no! I’m...I’m...I’m going to get another drink. I...d-don't go, okay? I just need to…”

“Don’t you dare, Wheein. You’re gonna get yourself hurt. Hello? Wheein? Oi! Don’t ignore me! HEY!”

“....”

“...”

“Ahh...that’s...mmm...better…”

“Seriously? Are you okay?”

“Prooooobably...maybe...nah.”

“Fuck, you’re gonna kill yourself at this rate.”

“S’alright. I’m at home, sooooo…”

“You’re drinking alone at home. At 3am. And talking to a stranger.”

“Mmmmm...yeaaaaaah…”

“Is this...a typical Tuesday night?”

“Naaaaaah, I’m suuuuper good at...being...normal..and stuff...I guess…uuuuusually.”

“So it just kinda blew up today, huh?”

“Ooooor maybe I saw him with another giiiiirl.”

“What, in Korea?”

“Yaah.”

“…”

“…”

“...”

“He sounds like a dick, Wheein.”

“Mmm...probably.”

“...”

“...”

“…I get it, you know. I’ve been there. Where you were. It sucks.”

“Was it worth it?”

“Fuck no. But it was different at the time. I…”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“…Are you still there, Hyejin?”

“Yeah, I just…I guess I can tell you. You’re a complete stranger who isn’t gonna remember a damn thing in the morning. What could go wrong?”

“Tell me what?”

“Well, I used to date this woman. She was my everything, and I…I would’ve moved mountains for her even though I knew she would never even think about doing the same thing. She’d…we were…too different, I guess. She told me she couldn’t love me as intensely as I love her, but I thought I could change her mind, y’know? She was always seeing other people and shit, but I thought that was just what I deserved. I stayed with her for two years. Didn’t think I could do any better. Didn’t really think I deserved better. I was…too different, I guess, and I thought this was just…how it’s supposed to be for people like me.”

“…”

“It’s cheesy as hell, but I guess…what I want to say is that you…shouldn’t make the same mistake as I did. You deserve better than that asshole.”

“...”

“Did you fall asleep? Are you still there?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m still here.”

“Okay, good.”

“You…you too, you know.”

“What?”

“You deserve better than that.”

“...”

“...”

“Please don’t tell me that was a sniffle.”

“Sorry, I...it’s just...I don’t know...”

“It’s over now. Trust me, Wheein, you don’t need anyone to tell you what you’re worth. It’s fucked up.”

“Thank you…Hyejin…”

“…”

“…”

“You’re really asleep now this time? Well, it was nice meeting you, Wheein.”

“Wait!”

“Yeah?”

“Do you do delivery?”

 END


	2. Breath of Air by Grieves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This collection is maintained on AsianFanfics. I post everything on AO3 far later than AFF, as I often forget. AFF also has full notes, full formatting, a table of contents, and the most updated edits. 
> 
> Please click here to follow this story as it is updated in its full form.: 
> 
> https://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/1260021/the-fireroasted-songbook-oneshotcollection-mamamoo-moonsun-wheesa

Once upon a fantasy, there lived a princess, a pearl, her precious majesty.   
Fresh as the wind, bright as the sun,   
They called her Yongsun.   
A child blessed by angels,   
The Creator's artistic miracle.   
But of course the world could never let her be. How the evil seeps; deep into the souls, deep into the sea. 

The magic flowed through her veins,   
And the people feared her reign.  
They turned their backs,   
Threatened their attack.  
Beneath their boots twigs cracked,  
As the fear wracked their minds,  
Black hearts tightened their binds.   
Amnesiac minds; paranoiac hearts,  
Forgotten days, all fallen apart.    
And so they lit their matches in the black night.   
The King, the Queen,   
They saw the light in the dark,   
How stark  
It seemed.

Yongsun grew up in a secluded wood,  
Alone with the wolves, as well as she could.   
Alone in a yellow brick house,  
Alone. Alone. As wretched as Faust.    
Her parents had long forgotten  
For the people were persuasive  
And power became the child in place of  
The miracle they'd begotten.   
She grew to love the anger inside  
She learned to never hide, never apologize.   
Her magic blossomed equally strong.  
She became the enchantress who believed  
The world made her grieve, those thieves,  
And she was never wrong.  
The days passed in peace while she sought her reprieve,   
Oh, how death and destruction tugged at her sleeve!   
But she never could act, as a matter of fact,  
Kindness be damned, still, evil she lacked.   
The love, she knew, was a nuisance at best  
Even then, she couldn't rid the pest.  
Over time, she let it all go,  
Anger, sadness, the demons we sow.   
The days passed in peace  
While she waited for release;   
Curse her existence on this wretched earth  
What's there to live for besides death's mirth?   
   
Then came a day when her axis turned,  
An answer to what her heart   
Had yet learned   
to yearn.   
A girl came through the forest, searching for a rose.  
She came upon the yellow bricks,  
Knocked on the door, gave it a kick.   
"Anyone home?" She cried,  
Rapping the door three times with a sigh.   
"Just need a flower, don't mind me.  
I see your garden is rich, you've got roses aplenty."   
The girl kicked once more, and went off to explore.   
The flora paved her path and branches guide her way  
The sunkissed, dewdropped leaves seem to say   
"You're safe. You're here. Come to us and play,  
Kiss away the gray."  
The girl looped through tree after tree,  
Far as she seemed to wander, there was nothing else to see.   
She cursed the rose under her breath,  
Curse the green world that paved her death.   
So she laid her head on a mossy rock,   
And the wind mocked her with a shock of cold.  
Under the cold her body shivered,  
Pulled the brush against her, though her lips continued to quiver.   
Quivering, shivering, a life for a rose  
A life for what? Gold, she supposed.   

"Well, well, well, has the little thief learned her lesson?  
Speak now, and tell me your name. You dig around my garden like a cub, a little urchin  
With a twig."   
The girl opened her eyes, and was blinded by light  
By a face beautiful as Athena; like Zeus just as bright.   
"Speak now, and tell me your name  
Speak, and your life may not end in vain."   
"I just need a rose," she said in a daze.  
"For a little flower, you'd travel this maze?   
You'd give up your life for an afterlife in strife  
For a flower that'd go  
By any other name  
Like it's all the same.  
A cold rose is a tale like old;  
A cold rose is just a thorn sold  
Like a luxury. It's infamy, in all honesty,  
This rose you seek is a waste of time,  
For this rose you waste your rhymes."  
The girl dusted off the frost on her nose,  
Straightened up, like the sun arose.   
"With all due respect, I don't know where you've been.   
I don't know what you've seen, could care less about your sins.  
With all due respect, you don't know where I've been.   
You don't know what it means, you don't know what I've seen.   
To you a rose is just a rose,  
Perhaps you don't know. You've been here, I suppose.   
The Queen, you see, has a bounty on me.   
I'm a celebrity, you know, everyone wants a piece.   
Fifteen million for me, unless I can do the deed:  
Steal the steel rose, she said, a favourite of the Queen's.   
I know what you're thinking; I can see it in your gorgeous eyes.   
I'm not flirting, I swear, just distracted, I won't lie.   
You must think I'm crazy, but you must be crazy too.   
Alone in these woods,   
Next to these wolves,  
tamed by these cloves;  
You're an alabaster goddess, and there's a fire in your hands,  
You can't fool me when you've got a special brand of crazy going on in these lands."

"First of all, you're rude;  
I like your style, and you're cute to boot.   
I'll spare your life, but come with me. I have things you might want to see.   
Maybe you'll even find what you need, depends, really, on what you can do for me.   
Now tell me your name, I won't ask again,  
Or I'm not going to dance this dance;  
I'm sure the wolves won't mind  
They're old friends of mine."

"My name is Byulyi,   
like the stars you see.   
And you need to relax,  
I'm not going to run, I can't go back."

Through the trees, and across a stream,  
They travelled, like a dream, along a path the thief has never seen.   
Byulyi told of the steel rose, wild and proud on this magic isle.   
Yongsun scoffed, told of idiots sold by old wives tales across the miles.   
But Byulyi rolled her eyes, and smiled,  
Sidled up next to her, shook her head for a while:  
"You've been in this forest your whole life,  
You think the world is bad from what you read  
But I live and I breathe in the miasma of strife,  
You don't know, can't know  
Until life has shown   
How the pieces of your soul  
Can shatter and build, melt in the sun, and freeze in the cold."   
Yongsun stopped in her steps, picked a flower, and said:  
"You're quick to judge, and you're luck I'm not upset,  
Since your confidence is cute, and your arrogance unmet.  
You think I've lived a charmed life, think I've got it all.  
It's charming, you think, to sleep alone without a soul,  
 to be a child in the wild with powers you can't control   
The demon in my basement, guess it's charming when I feed it,  
But self-loathing is boring after all these years and god it's overrated.  
I don't know where you've been,  
To me your world's a dream.   
I don't miss the double-edged courtesy,  
The pedestal, the lies, and the hypocrisy,  
But I miss the way I used to feel,  
Alive, loved, beautiful, and real." 

Byulyi shrugged, cheeks tinged with pink:  
"For what it's worth, you're beautiful, I think.  
 You're alive, beautiful, and real,  
But I won't tell you how to feel.   
You and I are much the same,   
I had a shot, I threw it away. Rotten by fame  
I came, I saw, I lived--for who?   
For what?   
It's corrupt!   
A life for a rose is better than none;  
A life for something is better than none."

Then the steel rose descended from the sky,   
The beautiful armour shined, calling, "Don’t be shy."   
"Go on," Yongsun nudged,  
"Fulfil your dream, who am I to judge?"

Surely a scam, a trick, an illusionary bait,  
Possibilities rattled her brain; she couldn't wait.   
But Yongsun smiled so prettily,  
And the petals soft like newborn leaves,  
Such an obvious choice, it wasn't even a choice,   
But the noise, the --

"You have a dream, and that's more than me.   
Living for a rose is more than I can see  
In me, I live for ideas that never come,  
Melodies I can never hum,  
The simple beats escape me, so natural to everybody  
Else, so maybe you're not wrong.   
A life for a rose is your song.   
I wish you luck, and perhaps you'll find   
Something to ease your mind when nightmares are far behind." 

Byulyi took the rose and through the woods she fled,  
Not thinking about the way Yongsun stood, the way she looked at the end.   
She journeyed for days to the palace gates,  
Finally, the place.   
But the enchantress' eyes weighed on her heart,  
Her story, her face, every work of art, none would part.   
She stood at the gate, hooded in black:  
What of her life after the rose, what's after that?  
Prowl the streets, freely in chains, free to dream, lost in pain as the days loop by, one day at a time.   
One day at a time and she called it living,  
Loveless, lost, but she called it living. 

Yongsun.   
She knew this farce, this game,  
She knew they were the same.  
Yongsun. 

Byulyi raced back into the woods, ran and ran, fast as she could, race as she should  
Fast as she could to her newfound dream  
to learn to love, to split the seams,   
to mend them back, kiss them better, and raise the hollow beam,   
write poetry by the ream.   
She held the rose in her shaking hands,  
Hoping the enchantress would give her a chance. 

She collapsed by the brook,   
and took a good hard look  
At the reflection in the water  
A dusty thief looks back; why did she bother?   
Nothing was where it was when she left,  
The lack of familiarity was a peculiarity that left her bereft.   
"What an existence," she sighed as she slept,  
By the water, in the night, surely where death crept. 

"You must really enjoy trying to die in my garden,  
But I guess I enjoy the power in your pardon."  
Byulyi looked up, rubbed the frost from her lashes,  
And lit up like a billion matches:  
"I came back to you," she said with a smile.  
"To me? Why me? You ran the mile with your wile,  
Got your rose, sure as the wind blows,   
Lived your dream, I suppose." 

Byulyi smiled, tentative and shy:  
"My dream was a lie, but I don't mind,   
With you I…I'd like to try.     
I've been damned just the same, exiled still from the Queen's reign.   
I thought the rose could change the shade of her heart,  
But you can't change the people when you're condemned from the start.   
The start. I want a new start.   
You and me could conquer the world like Bonaparte,  
You and me could be blown apart,   
But we could be happy, I don't care where we are…  
I want to try with you, if you want to try with me,  
We've lived our lives in the dark for so long, no love, no family.   
Here is your rose, I'm not going to need it,  
There's nothing out there for me alone, I'll admit." 

Yongsun grinned, pulled Byul to her feet,   
Pulled her in, kissed her on the cheek.   
She caressed the rose with a finger,   
"I don’t care for the flower, but I wouldn't mind if you linger."

Once upon a fantasy, two girls found their family,   
Found their breath of air, their purpose and humanity.   
In the deep of the woods, the rush of the seas,  
Through cities they roamed, but found home among the trees,  
In the enchanted forest, where they first did meet. 

 

END


	3. Just Kids by Mat Kearney

5:

Five years old  
I was listening to the radio  
When my mother called my name  
But the melody was soft in my ear, they eased my soul, even then I knew  
This was the beginning, the world and its colours, never the same

We met in kindergarten  
She stood so pretty in the garden  
Flowers in her hair, angels everywhere  
When she opened her mouth, like the gods taught her to sing  
And me, trying to be,

Running, tripping, shoving,  
Anything to be seen

I caught her eye and it lit a candle  
Her smile was more than I could handle  
She called my name  
And my world was never the same

The teacher called me wild  
My parents called it being a child  
Her parents called it all of the above  
But I called it being in love

13:  
Thirteen years old  
Still listening to the radio  
Beyoncé, Rihanna, it was the American dream  
Their confidence, beats and the rhymes how perfect it seemed  
I learned to sing, I learned to play  
Learned to say what I wanted to say

I built a barrier twenty feet thick  
But she waltzed in like it was hers to break  
We sang, danced, music moved our world  
Fierce, ferocious, harmonious  
It struck my soul!  
Our resonance!

They told me that someday I'll be a star  
I picture myself lighting up the stage, her by my side,  
Making art, we'll never part  
She as my angel, I as her bard

They laughed at us too, gritty smiles  
Venom in their beguile,  
Words attempting to shatter  
Bounced off our armour, into the gutter  
Their world's so damn small  
Couldn't even stand along those cramped walls  
Fuck them, I said  
Forgive them, she said

18:  
We swept every stage with music as our wings  
Talent, passion, and soul: second to none when we sing  
They told us we'd be stars, but there was just a catch,  
A couple, in fact,    
Countless, to be exact

How can I put this?  
Our voices are great.  
It's just me  
Who didn't fit.

Hell.  
They tried to tear us apart.

She was a work of art: fair skin, bright eyes, soft at the edges, shy smile and all  
Her little dimple drove them crazy, a minor note in her perfect symmetry  
At the very least, they called her pretty

She was the brilliant sun and I was the moon in her shadow  
Hollow craters all around the edges  
As I dredged up my dignity for the shallow bastards  
Nothing I did was never enough.  
Fuck.

I pushed her away when I became her ball and chain    
I told her to go, don't blow these chances in vain  
Music was her soul, as much as it was mine  
And she was divine! God she was divine!  
The world needed to hear her,  
I just wanted to be near her,  
So quietly I sighed  
Never told her how much I cried

Even then she refused to go  
Bless her golden soul  
She held my hands and kissed me hard  
You can't give up, she said, look where we've gone  
Look where we were, imagine where we'll go,  
There's no dream unless we're together  
The places we'll go,  
The stages we'll sing,  
The people we'll be  
There's no place to go,  
Nothing to do  
Unless  
I'm  
With  
You

23:  
Twenty-three and I'm singing free  
The radio plays, she's swaying with me  
We hum our song and the mirror in our eyes  
Reflect the history, the memories of our trials inside

We carved our place on every stage,  
Painted our souls with every note,  
We bent the spokes, we smashed the cage  
We learned to love, we found our way

She holds my hand as the curtain lifts,  
I hold her eyes and smile as my heart shifts

Together we step into the light  
Together we make our familiar flight  
Just me and her, the love of my life  
Nothing  
Could feel more right

END


	4. We Had Everything by Broods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All spacing, indentation, and other formatting choices are deliberate.

Yongsun

All eyes are on her as she slips into the room.  Her teacher pounces, and the class snickers. She must've bowed a hundred times before he let her go. Ten minutes late. How can she be so stupid? She takes her seat with haggard breaths and stray strands of hair falling from her loose bun. She carefully avoids her reflection in the window, and spares a glance at Byulyi beside her. Byulyi watches her intensely, her face unreadable. The desk in front of her seems so fascinating in that moment, as if it can swallow her up and hide her in its dark compartments forever. She can feel Byulyi's eyes on her still. Appraising the bags under her eyes, perhaps, or judging her wrinkled collar and muddy shoes. The beautiful genius will surely laugh if she knows that she'd stayed up all night working on their history project. She'd overheard Byulyi tell her friends that she'd finished it a week ago. She works up her courage and catches Byulyi's eye. Byulyi looks away and turns her attention back to the teacher. She sighs and quietly daydreams about crawling under her desk forever.  

 

 

Byulyi

Her breath catches in her throat when Yongsun stumbles in as it always does. Even with her messy bun and crumpled uniform, she is beautiful. She clenches her fists beneath her desk when the teacher taunts her. She wants to get up and throw him out the window as he basks in the power,  his stupid face grinning as Yongsun's head ducks over and over like a broken toy in apology. As she sits down, their eyes meet. The morning sun catches the glow of her hair just right, and Byulyi cannot look away. She wants to reach over and squeeze her hand and ask her if she is okay, but all she can do is stare like an idiot. Skipping grades had done nothing to improve her lacklustre social skills. She'd practiced in the mirror all evening yesterday, and even then she cannot work up the right words to say to Yongsun. A good morning will suffice--she knows this intellectually, but it's so damn hard. The simple words twist and tangle in her mouth like discarded yarn. By the time she'd run every scenario in her head, the moment is long gone. Yongsun catches her eye once more, as if sensing her tumultuous thoughts. It's sheer panic that drives her to look away, her heart rattling against her chest despite how much she wants to hold those soulful brown eyes like they were her own. She glares down at her notes, wondering when this will get easier.

 

 

Yongsun

It’s the last year of high school, and she can’t wait to get out. Counting down the hours, one bell at a time, she pictures herself running out the door and into the streets, as alone as she'd come, but with a proud certificate in her hand. She dreamt often about the day when she no longer worried about her assignments, no longer have to endure voices of her peers. It is only the beginning of the school year, but she feels that it is a good sign when she is seated next to Byulyi once more. The girl is quiet, different, and there is something about her that makes every day just a little easier. They've never spoken, but she loves her calming presence. Just sitting beside her makes her feel like a better person. Even if she isn't. Byulyi is tall, intelligent, beautiful, popular, and everything else that she isn't. None of this matters. Or it isn't supposed to. But she didn’t expect to find herself alone with Byulyi in this moment, standing under the shade of a tall tree. Didn’t expect to see the array of emotions running across Byulyi's face, her cheeks tinting all shades of red. For her! Her confession drives her reality into the ground. Perhaps it’s an elaborate joke. A prank? It’s something out of a fairytale, and it make no sense. But when she tastes those lips for the first time, everything makes perfect sense. With her arms around Byulyi's neck, she is, even if just for a moment, a better person.  

Byulyi

She'd been planning for this moment for weeks. Her friends were getting sick of her lovesick sighs, and she was getting sick of it too. A year of sitting beside Yongsun had driven her up the wall. When the last day of school came, she'd raced after the forlorn beauty, but the voices of her friends hit her all at once, and she found herself pulled in all directions. Except the one she wanted. Summer was mostly spent laying on the floor, in long moments of deep self-kicking meditations. Her friends knocked on her door, but she hated them for weeks. Finally, she blew up, told them the truth, and found herself strapped in for a whole new world of intervention. The latter half of the summer was spent on a three step plan: practice, practice, confess. They teased her relentlessly, of course, but when school began, and she found herself sitting next to Yongsun again, she was hopeful, even. And now the time has come and she stands under that tree with her heart in her throat and her words coming out in globs of anxiety, entirely not prepared. She is ready to walk away and learn to socialize in a way where, "I love you" were not the first words you ever say to someone. But Yongsun’s lips are soft, and their effect nearly brings her to her knees. It is everything she's ever dreamt of and more, and silently hopes she can be by her side forever.

Yongsun

Their senior year is everything. Byulyi is more than she could've ever imagined. She is so sweet, so thoughtful. She is everything. And she, lost in her dreams, can only bite her lip and pray she doesn't get left behind.  

Byulyi

Their senior year is everything. Yongsun is more than she could've ever imagined. Beautiful, kind, quick on her feet, thoughtful to a fault, and more hardworking than anything else. Yongsun wants to be a singer; she wants to be her manager. She pictures a life beside her, on stage, off stage. She doesn't care. She just wants to get her there. They talk about their futures from March to June. Writes their futures together from June to December. But she never tells Yongsun about her parents' master plan, and she prays that she can find the strength to leave it behind.  

 

Yongsun

High school graduation comes and goes. Her days with Byulyi and her friends are the happiest days of her life. They apply to the same universities, they both get into the top, and even when she anticipated their fall at every step, they continue moving forward. Together. Against all odds, together. On their first anniversary, she gives her everything, and Byul returns in kind. Everything about Byulyi is just the way she has always imagined love would be. She loves her so much, but reality isn't going to be kind. The first sign of trouble comes the first time Byulyi's mother sets Byul up with a man. Her family quickly accepted Byulyi into the family when she introduced her three months into their relationship, but Byul is always secretive when it comes to family, and she can't understand why she doesn't turn her mother down. Byulyi keeps her like a secret, and she wonders if this really is what love should be.  

 

Byulyi

Their last winter together as high school students is surprisingly not the tearful mess she expected it to be. She remembers how she picked Yongsun up and spun her around when they both received their acceptance letters, and she smiles just thinking about the prospect of living together. Now that high school is out of the way, she can't wait to start the rest of her life with Yongsun. She dreams about nothing else. Her mother expects her to meet the son of her father's business partner, and deep down she knows this will only be the first of many. But she doesn't care. All she needs is Yongsun.  

 

 

 

Yongsun

She drops out after the first year of university. She isn't sure whether her parents are ever going to forgive her. She isn't sure whether she is ever going to forgive herself. Byulyi held her hand, gave her courage, and told her to chase her dreams, but she can't shake the feeling that she betrayed her too. Even so, with her blessing, her love, and her support, she goes to those auditions. She is older than most, but no less starry-eyed. Audition after audition...tens become hundreds. Hundreds become thousands. She never sees Byul anymore. Byulyi...her studies, her obligation, her parents are all so, so demanding. They used to share a dorm, and now an apartment. They used to share a life, but now their schedules overlap. They walk by each other like ghosts. They no longer have the time or the energy, and she is scared to death as Byul seems to slip through her fingers before her very eyes. She can’t do this anymore. Byulyi's voice calls to her, but she can't do it anymore. Byul is trying so hard, and she is so sweet. Byulyi everything, but she knows that she can never be the person Byul deserves, but who is she without Byulyi? Strength. She needs to find her own strength, and there is only one way.  

 

 

 

Byulyi

Yongsun dropped out of her life after the first year of university. It wasn't intentional at first, and, god, she tried hard to keep them together. She loved Yongsun so much, but she couldn't save her from her doubts. As her parents' demands grew louder, Yongsun's gentle pleas grew softer. She knew those auditions were taking a toll on them both, and she frequently cursed the world for making her Yongddoni jump through those hoops. For making her feel less than. Unworthy. Undeserving. She can't make her see the other side, and she is tired.   The break-up is mutual, she thinks. She doesn't know how Yongsun dealt with it, but she...doesn't. She thought her tear ducts would dry up after three weeks, but she always manages somehow. Fresh tears always come when she thinks about how much harder she should've tried, and how much braver she should've been. She continues going to those damn meaningless dates and she continues doing those damn meaningless assignments through puffy, red eyes. The world is dull and cruel, but it keeps on spinning. Turning, turning to spite her, knowing she isn't ready to move forward yet. Why the fuck did the world have to keep moving?

 

 

 

 

Yongsun

Whenever someone asks, she always tells the story of Byulyi. The love of her life whom she was too stupid and selfish to keep. She tells this story, even when her managers tell her not to air out her relationships as a rookie, but how can she not tell this story when it so perfectly captures who she is as a person? She is young and naïve and too busy wallowing in the pits she digs for herself. They tell her to let it go. Live in the present. But maybe she doesn't want to let Byul go.   

 

 

 

 

Byulyi

Whenever someone asks, she is tempted to tell the story of Yongsun, but she never finds the courage. So she quietly follows her ten-step plan, and carefully steps her way inside her father's footprints. She tucks Yongsun in the back of her mind, and pulls her out for rainy days. She wonders what she is doing now, and whether she could ever love with everything again.

 

 

Yongsun

She is a star by the time she meets Byulyi again. It is a chance encounter like so many others, the kind that people like to romanticize. But there is no symphony, nothing slowed down. If anything, the world skips forward when her heart drops out of her chest and blacks out for a second. She is embarking a plane, first class. Smiling to herself, clutching letters in one hand and her bag in the other, as she thinks about the wave of dedicated fans who greeted her at the terminal. She has been dreaming about this moment for years, and she couldn't be more grateful for each of them. They worked so hard; she has to work twice as hard in kind. She is lost in thought as she takes her seat, and it isn't until she hears her name from across the aisle that she notices Byulyi. Byul is seated so elegantly, her long legs and narrow shoulders clad in a tailored white suit. She looks just the same, but the confidence, the air of gentle strength, and the worn corners of her eyes are new. And undeniably attractive. All at once, every part of her is filled. Even voids she never knew existed are brimming with potential. All at once, she is seventeen years old again, both daunted and captivated, suddenly self-conscious and aching, but bound by her own awkwardness to hesitate.  

 

 

Byulyi

She is one of the youngest CEOs in the country. Famously wealthy, capable, beautiful, and humble, she'd been groomed to perfection for the world's stage. That's her family's official statement, at least. It was a lie that went too far, and she has spent years battling the media with the truth. It was nothing but pure validation when Time took her story and put her face on the cover two weeks ago. Her parents continue to try and take credit, though in reality, they chose to cut all ties when she refused to marry and was caught one too many times in the beds of strange women during her drunken escapades. She crafted her name, built her empire from nearly nothing. Worked her way up alone. And she hopes now that the world will sympathize. Losing her parents made her invincible, even if it created immeasurable gaps in her soul. But in that moment, when Yongsun walks into her life once more, all the sutures she held inside seemed to burst open and disappear. Her presence alone, so close, but so achingly far from across the aisle, was enough to make her feel less alone for the first time in years. She'd been tracking Yongsun's progress from the beginning, had even bought over twenty copies of her last album so she could collect the full set of photo cards. She is proud when Yongsun steps on stage, protective when she reads the comments, and jealous when fans step into her space. Yongsun isn't solely hers to admire, but she can pretend. At the very least, she is her biggest fan, even if she is long past wishing she can be more. When she saw the curtain of pink hair in her peripheral, she sighed and dreamt about Yongsun's recent makeover. It’s almost the same shade. She doesn't immediately believe her judgment at first, after years of searching for Yongsun in the crowds and the false verdicts. Several sneaking glances had confirms it. Yongsun is smiling as she reads the letter in her hand. A moment of doubt settles, but the rampant emotions of seeing her first and only love, the spark of old embers rekindled, draw her in. Her voice catches in her throat, and she hopes to catch those warm brown eyes. Yongsun is engrossed. Byulyi fights the butterflies. All at once, she is sixteen again, wishing upon every star for courage, just a couple ounces more, just enough to turn to Yongsun, drop to her knee, and tell her she is her world. But all she can do is settle for the next best thing. She calls her name softly. Yongsun looks up and around in a daze  she catches her eye and an audible gasp escapes Yongsun's perfect lips. Byulyi smiles, quickly runs her palms over her thighs, sucks in a breath of courage, and opens her mouth to let the butterflies out.  

 

Byulyi

Hey.

Yongsun

H-Hi. Wow. Um, hi. Hello.

Byulyi

Yongsun.

Yongsun

Byulyi.

Byulyi

I can't believe it's you.

 

Yongsun

Yeah I'm...I'm...wow. I can't believe it's you too, I mean, I can't believe...ah jeez, it's been a while, hasn't it?  

Byulyi

It's been a while.

Yongsun

Yeah. You...you look good. How are you?

Byulyi

I-I'm great. Good. Yeah. You?  

Yongsun

I'm wonderful.

Byulyi

That's great. Um, so...you're going to London?  

 

Yongsun

Yeah, there's a festival going on and I'm performing.

Byulyi

Ah, right, I saw that this morning

Yongsun

You did?  

 

Byulyi

Yeah, I, uh follow your fan page and stuff.

 

Yongsun

That information was only released to the fan club, Byul.

Byulyi

W-w-well I—

 

Yongsun

Don’t worry, I’m just teasing you. You’re still cute when you blush.

 

…

 

Yongsun

I’m...I’m happy that you’re a fan. Really happy, actually. It...it means a lot to know that you've been watching. 

 

Byulyi

I’ve always been your fan. From the very beginning. I—

 

 

Oh my god, is that--

Hey, don’t point, it’s--oh my god it’s Solar. She’s so pretty in person, oh my god.  

Shh, you’re being loud!

Ask for an autograph. A picture. Oh god, I can’t even breathe.

Shh, shh, shh! Aigo, you’re so embarrasing.

Hurry!

She’s talking to someone!

Who? Oh my god, is that…

Let’s just go

But--

 

Yongsun

Would you like an autograph?

 

…

…

 

Yongsun

Um, are you two alright? Why don’t you come over here so the people behind you can get through? Do you have a pen?

 

Y-y-yeah, just a moment.

T-thank you so much!

 

Yongsun

It’s my pleasure. Do you have a piece of paper?

Byulyi

Here, you can take my napkin. I can get another one later.

 

Yongsun

Thank you, Byul.

 

…

…

Oh my god it really is Moon Byulyi. She's so cool.

Shut up! She can hear you.

 

...

 

Yongsun

Who should I write this out to?

 

…

…

 

Yongsun

Uhm, what are your names?

 

Oh! I-I’m, uh...she’s, uhm..oh my god, you’re so pretty

...I’m Wheein, and this idiot is Hyejin.

W-we’re--we love you!

Your music really inspired us.

We’re trying to be idols too!

Hyejin! She doesn’t need to know that.

She needs to know she changed our lives!

 

Yongsun

There you go! And thank you. I love your enthusiasm, so I’m sure you’ll both be great. Hopefully I’ll see you both on stage someday. I’ll be cheering you on until then. Fighting!

 

F-Fighting!

Fighting!

Thank you for everything, Miss Solar!

Best of luck in London! We’ll be cheering you on!

 

...

...

 

Byulyi

Your fans are adorable.

 

Yongsun

I know. You would know, wouldn’t you?

 

...

 

Yongsun

Why don’t you come sit next to me? We have lots to catch up on. You can tell me all about your article in Time.

 

Byulyi

You...you know what happened. Do you...do you believe it?

 

Yongsun

Of course. I always knew you had it in you. You were very brave for standing up to your parents like that. It's...amazing what you have accomplished over the years.

 

Byulyi

I..I wish I could've done it sooner. I’m sorry...for all those years ago.

 

Yongsun

Don't be. If anything, I should be the one apologizing. We were...both at fault. I...I just...I wish I could've been there with you when everything happened. 

 

Byulyi

I...me too...for you.

 

Yongsun

Yeah.

 

...

...

 

Byulyi

I...I don’t even know where to begin telling you...everything. There's so much I want to say to you.  
I still can't believe you're here. 

 

Yongsun

Well, we have the next ten hours...and the rest of our lives to decide the rest.

 

Byulyi

Yongsun.

 

Yongsun

Yes?

 

Byulyi

I missed you.

 

Yongsun

I missed you, too.

 

 

 END


	5. #White Style by Kisum

#FFFFF0

They met over a drink the colour of ivory.

It was a blistering Wednesday afternoon, and the local coffee shop was packed. Half the town must've been in here for the air conditioning and a nice glass of something cool to escape the scorching sun. While the blue skies seemed to paint nothing but good vibes on most patrons, Ahn Hyejin tapped her foot impatiently. Her meeting had gone poorly just half an hour before, and the frustrations of human interaction and paperwork had sent her on her routine coffee trip exactly four minutes early. Even with the added time, she only had nineteen minutes to her break, ten of which had been spent in-between sweaty bodies and muffled noise. She stood restlessly, listening to the sounds of inane conversation and incompetent baristas. A low growl added to the soundscape when it seemed like no amount of glowering could summon her drink.

She had ordered her favourite concoction, an off-menu creation she had drilled into the barista’s heads every Wednesday afternoon, and there would be no mistaking it when it was called. She glanced down at her watch as another minute inched past the white surface.

Then the magic words came: “Iced venti soy crème-base blended half-sweet white mocha black tea with a splash of half-and-half and whip?” The barista called with rehearsed precision, followed by a victorious grin that soon gave way to confusion as he finished reading the cup. “For...Wheein?”

His eyes met Hyejin’s in sheer horror, but quickly gulped it down and put the drink on the counter so he could to go back to work behind the bar before she noticed. So he had hoped.

It was too late. Hyejin cut through the crowd like a shark in the water, and wore the look of murder when she reached the bar. She opened her mouth, but her attention was abruptly cut when a blur of orange-sunrise nearly toppled her over. She barely managed to step out of the way when the ends of copper hair brushed across her cheeks.

“What the f—”

“Oh, me! I’m here! I’m Wheein!” The voice chirped. This reckless, unapologetic drink-thief—Hyejin reached for her shoulder with every intention to spin her around and let her have it. But the girl beat her to it: she held the drink in her hands and turned to meet Hyejin’s eyes through long lashes.

She may have been a reckless, unapologetic drink-thief, but damn she was cute. The anger Hyejin felt only moments ago seemed to melt like the drink in her hands. She shook her head, spared a quick glance at her watch—seven minutes left—and frowned when she felt the girl’s gaze on her as still and unwavering as an oasis.

Hyejin narrowed her eyes, but the cute stranger simply stood there appraising her, her drink—her drink—sweating in her hands from the condensation.

She bit her lip. Hyejin watched. “This,” she said with a sheepish smile, holding up her cup with a charming flash of her dimple, “should be yours, shouldn't it? I hope you don't mind that I copied your order. It just sounded delicious. I was behind you, so this should be yours anyway. I stood behind you and wondered what a beautiful woman like you would drink. Wow, that sounded like a pick-up line. Maybe you didn't need to know that...well, it's too late. A-anyway, you seem like you're in a hurry, so maybe you can have mine. If you want to. Ugh, I'll shut up and stop wasting your time now. Here! I'll get the next one.”

She pressed the cup into Hyejin's hands. Her fingers were cold, but they seemed to burn against her own.

Hyejin took in the girl’s bright eyes, then let her gaze travel down from the loose-fitting white, cotton T-shirt to the far-too-short jean shorts, and finally down to her white sneakers before flicking back up to her pink face. She wondered how young she was, and whether she had the same kind of courage when she was her age.

The girl shifted uncomfortably, the tip of her tongue poking out from between her lips. “I-I’ll wait for the next one,” she repeated.

“Hyejinssi!”

Both Hyejin and the girl snapped out of the charged bubble that had developed around them, and turned to look at the barista.

He grinned, oblivious. “Got your iced venti—”

Hyejin held up a hand. The barista pressed his lips together, and withdrew almost imperceptibly. But Hyejin noticed, and smirked. “I got my drink, Chandong,” she said with a wink, holding up the plastic cup with Wheein’s name scrawled on the side. “Give that one to the next girl you see with a cute dimple. Don't forget my drink next Wednesday.”

Then, with a flick of her long black hair, the other bodies closed in and she was gone.

 

#F7F7F9

Hyejin saw her again under the blue sky, painted with wistful white clouds lined with silver edges.

It was Wednesday.

She stood in front of the cafe with her head tilted up, one hand shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun while the other held the strap of a brown leather bag. Hyejin stopped when she recognized the girl, and her lips could not fight the instinctive tug of a smile.

She looked older today, with her grey slacks, long blazer, and heels. And possibly cuter than Hyejin had remembered, even though she had been flitting around in her mind all week.

A glance at her watch told her she had fifteen minutes left in her break, but the thought couldn't be pushed back further when she closed in on the girl watching the sky with a lazy smile.

“What are you looking at?” Hyejin asked, unable to contain her grin when the girl jumped at the sound of her voice.

“H-Hyejinssi!”

“You remember my name,” Hyejin said with a raised brow.

“Oh! Yeah, um, it was on the cup and everything, so, yeah. Is that weird? It was kind of hard to forget...ah, I just made it weirder didn't I?” the girl went on, expressions flickering across her face faster than Hyejin could catalogue them.

Finally, Hyejin touched her elbow. “Relax, Wheeinssi, I remember you too,” she said with a chuckle.

The moment lapsed into awkward silence as they looked around them, wanting to speak but failing to find the words. Something told her she would see this girl again, perhaps even at this exact time and date. If she had to, she would've searched the whole world to see this girl again, so she really should've been more prepared. There was so much Hyejin wanted to say, and even though she thought she'd filed them all neatly in her brain throughout the week for this inevitable meeting, nothing came out. As they soaked up the faint thrum of the neighbourhood, she found the cement beneath her heels far more interesting than the mess inside her head. 

“By the way,” Wheein cut in softly. She paused for a moment, as if she wasn’t sure how to continue, but she sucked in a breath and pushed forward. “Um, you’re very pretty today!” She said, wincing at how loud her voice came out, “You're...You’re smiling today. It’s nice. I...this side of you is very pretty.”

Hyejin felt her cheeks warm, and silently hoped that her long, black hair and makeup would be sufficient in hiding her embarrassment. “Thank you,” she whispered in a voice so small that it was almost--much to her horror--shy. Her beauty and confidence meant that She was no stranger to compliments, but Wheein’s earnest delivery and bashful half-smile sent her mind spinning. “I was in a bad mood last time. I'm...sorry we had to meet like that.”

“N-no, um, you were really cool!” Wheein cringed once more. "You...have a very cool vibe and you're not afraid to get what you want...and stuff...I guess?

“Thanks. For the drink. And for that,” Hyejin narrowed her eyes at her own inability to form a sentence. She sighed and tried again. “You were really cool too. You're very bold. I admire that.”

Wheein's eyes widened. A full ten seconds must've passed before she mumbled her thanks.

They soon fell into uncomfortable silence, each contemplating their own fears as the distant sounds of cars and people seemed to bounce right off them.

It was Hyejin who cleared her throat to ease the tension. “So you never answered my question,” she said.

Wheein blinked. “Question?”

“Yeah.” Hyejin looked up, and held her hand above her eyes. “What were you looking at?”

“Oh!” Wheein blushed. “Um, it's kind of embarrassing.”

“I promise I won't laugh.”

“Well...that cloud up there,” she said. Hyejin followed her finger up across the sky. “It looks like my cat.”

Hyejin hummed and squinted, but, in the end, she simply turned back to Wheein with a blank look. “I don't see it,” she said.

“Eh? It's right there,” Wheein cried, jabbing at the sky with her pointer finger. “See the ears there? The tail?”

Hyejin shook her head, but Wheein’s eyes were still trained to the silver-white clouds. Instead, she pulled lightly at her elbow, and said, “Why don't we go inside?”

Wheein snapped her attention to Hyejin. Startled at the sudden intensity of her gaze, Hyejin dropped the hand at her elbow like it was made of hot coal. “Hyejinssi,” Wheein said severely, “could it be that...you…”

Hyejin swallowed, as if Wheein had just figured out parts of her psyche that even she was not aware of. Surely, she had nothing to hide. Her intentions were friendly, she thought, even if she did find the girl highly attractive, and her smile somewhat addictive. 

“Could It it be that you've never went cloud-gazing before?” Wheein said. Hyejin gaped, but the crooked eyebrows and the parted lips told her that this girl was entirely serious.

“O-of course I have!” Hyejin said. “I used to do it all the time. When I was younger.” As soon as she said it, she realized it may have been a lie. She had spent her youth chasing grades and climbing metaphorical ladders. There was no way she would waste an entire day staring at clouds.

“You're lying.”

For a moment, Hyejin couldn't tell whether Wheein had just read her mind. Her eyes widened, but the girl simply smiled. “You'll have to come with me some time, Hyejinssi. It’s a lot of fun.”

“Well then,” Hyejin said with a smile, “you’ll have to let me get your drink today to thank you for your future services.” She nodded to the cafe door behind her, and something warm blossomed in her chest when Wheein lit up.

“Would it be alright to get your usual? I enjoyed it very much,” Wheein said, turning toward the door. But before either of them could reach the door, she stopped. Hyejin did not react, her eyes settling instead on the way she chewed her lip so thoughtfully.

Wheein looked down at her own fingeris as she softly pulled at the hem of her jacket. “If you...if you have time today,” she began again with a ferocious blush, “I...I have an interview today in a couple of hours at the studio down the block. I just...I just thought if you had time, maybe you'd like to…maybe you'd like to go cloud-gazing with me a-after we get some drinks? I mean, I also understand if you are busy and stuff, but you...y’know. If you want.”

The brief mention of time led Hyejin to spare a look at her watch for the first time since she rounded that corner. Its silver hands told her there were only three minutes left in her break. She pictured the pile of paperwork on her desk and her crowded schedule for the day. Hyejin bit the inside of her cheeks, all the while shifting her gaze from Wheein’s expectant eyes to her fidgeting fingers. Finally she sighed and shook her head with a resigned smile. “Let me just call my secretary.”

Something told her this wouldn't be the last time she said those words. At least, she hoped it wouldn't. She even felt sorry for her secretary for the briefest of moments, but when Wheein took her hand with that shy, tentative smile, she really didn't care.

 

#F7FDFF

At the end of the white-blue waves, where water bled into foam, was where they spent their first anniversary.

Hyejin stood at the edge of the water, looking out at Wheein, who waded deeper and deeper into the blue. “Hyejinnie, aren't you coming?” She heard over the low roar of the sea. But Hyejin found herself transfixed when she looked on at the way the sun was playing on Wheein’s hair, and the way the droplets rolled and glittered against her sunkissed skin. Her white bikini was simply sinful, yet her white smile was as innocent as always. Even the lily in her hair couldn't compete.

“Hyejinnie?”

The concern seeping into her voice shook Hyejin out of her trance. “Yeah, I’m coming,” she said, her own voice sounding scratchier than she remembered. She splashed closer and closer to Wheein, ripping up the water on either side in her impatience, until she was at the exact level of closeness she wanted: arms wrapped tight in spite of their sticky skin, and lips against lips, drinking in the sunshine and saltwater she had spent the morning admiring.

“You're beautiful, Wheeinie,” Hyejin murmured against the smile of her lips.

Wheein giggled, and put her breath to Hyejin’s ear, “Your secretary is watching.”

Hyejin cast a long look at the shore, where her secretary sat typing furiously on her laptop under a large umbrella. She turned back and pressed a kiss into Wheein’s jaw. “She’s busy,” she whispered, trailing more kisses down her neck.

Wheein shrieked and laughed, playfully pushing Hyejin back with a slight splash. “She's watching! It's weird!”

“Wheeiniiiie,” Hyejin whined, kicking at the water around her.

But Wheein just laughed and stuck her tongue out. “Your fault for bringing her!”

Hyejin sighed, wondering how she ever became so whipped between two women. This was, conveniently, a business trip she was fully taking advantage of, but her secretary had insisted she tagged along to keep her on schedule. By now, she was more than familiar than Hyejin’s tendency to lose time around her free-spirited partner. And though Hyejin had complained endlessly, she had to admit she would probably be kicked off the board if not for her secretary. Sometimes she wanted to slash her paycheque in half for coming in between her and Wheein, but her soft heart knew that a big raise was in order.

Still, she could not help but want to escape from her secretary’s watchful gaze.

That was when an idea struck her--something that could buy her an entire day with Wheein unsupervised. She pulled Wheein in by the elbow and whispered something into her ear. Wheein’s giggles quickly exploded into a full-blown cackle. They met the secretary’s eyes with a mischievous smile, bursting into another wave of laughter when an eyebrow shot up from the frame of her secretary's sunglasses and into the brim of her straw hat. 

When they returned to the hotel that night, Hyejin set her plan into motion. She dragged Wheein to the hotel bar, where her secretary doggedly followed. She had been here before on previous visits, and was always happy to see the dashing bartender who never failed to helped her forget her long days with boring, balding suits with her charisma.

The lounge was quiet. She took the stool closest to where the bartender stood, and was quickly met with a wide, charming smile. “Hyejinssi! You're back again this summer!” She said, throwing her arms open as if asking for a hug despite the length of the bar between them. “And I see you've brought some lovely ladies with you this time. Our little workaholic is all grown up now, isn't she?”

Hyejin laughed. “This is my beautiful girlfriend, Wheein,” she said, throwing an arm around her waist protectively, “so paws off, unnie.” Wheein grinned, extending her hand for a handshake, but the bartender gently held her fingers, turned her palm over, and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand.

“It's a pleasure,” she said with a grin.

“Unnie!” Hyejin cried, tugging Wheein’s arm back. Wheein, who had been holding back as best she could when she saw the expression on Hyejin’s face, fell into a fit of giggles.

“Anyway,” Hyejin huffed, shooting Wheein a look. She gestured to the woman on the other side of her. “This is my secretary. She is babysitting.”

The bartender didn’t miss a beat. “What she is is gorgeous,” she said with a wink.

Hyejin’s secretary blushed crimson.

It took almost no time at all for the velvet-voiced bartender to distract her secretary long enough for Hyejin to escape with Wheein.

They burst into their shared hotel room hand-in-hand, holding onto each other for support as giddy laughter shook their bodies. As soon as the door closed, their lips found each other like magnets, swallowing the sound of each other’s laughter with each beat. Before she knew it, Hyejin found herself sitting at the edge of their shared bed with Wheein on her lap, legs wrapped around her waist. With increasing fervor, she tugged Wheein’s shirt out of her shorts, dipped her hands low to reach for the hem with all the intention of exploring her way under the fabric, but a hand stilled her wrist for a moment and Wheein pulled back. Her eyes were clouded, her lids heavy, but the shy, tentative smile stopped any ounce of frustration it its tracks.

“What’s wrong?” Hyejin asked, dropping her hands on either side of Wheein’s hips.

“I...Sorry,” Wheein mumbled. Her chest rose and fell to the same quick rhythm as Hyejin’s, but she shifted her eyes to look at something behind Hyejin’s head. “Ah, it’s nothing. It’s embarrasing.”

Hyejin brushed a finger under Wheein’s chin and smiled. “You can tell me anything, Wheeinie.”

“It’s just…” Wheein bit her lip. Hyejin craned back to follow Wheein’s gaze, landing right on the still white numbers of the digital clock. 12:03am.

“Are you worried about the time?” Hyejin said, turning back. She shifted her hold on Wheein’s hips, and  pushed her just a bit closer. “We have all night.”

Wheein shook her head. “No, it’s just...it’s midnight.” Expectant eyes urged her to continue. “It’s midnight and that means it’s officially been one year since I asked you to go cloud-gazing with me,” she said with a soft smile that melted Hyejin’s heart. “I guess I’m just really happy right now, and I’m really happy that we’re...I don’t know...here? I never would’ve expected myself to be here a year ago, and I just love you so much, Hyejinie. I wanted to say that right at midnight, but we got a bit carried away. Thank you for making my life, for making me, better. You make everything better, and I love you so much for that. Oh gosh, don’t cry Hyejinie. I’ll cry if you cry!”

Hyejin, startled at her own tears, could not think of anything better to say except, “I love you too.”

Later, in the silence of their bedroom and the rushing of waves outside, Hyejin laid in bed and recounted all the wonderful things that Wheein had given her. Her memories scrolled by like a series of stills, and at the end of it, she pictured a white-gold ring, encrusted with diamonds, on Wheein’s finger. She smiled that night, and looked forward to all the days to come.

#FFFFFF

They stood together under the flower-woven arch in pure, white dresses, under the white-glow of the sun.

The ceremony, though small, was filled with the kind of joy that would ring in their memories for years to come. They would remember the salty winds as they stood on the pale, soft beach of their first anniversary. Their guests would remember the cloudless blue skies, the white pews, and the crisp, melodic voices of the brides as they serenaded their vows.

When they went to sleep that night, fingers entwined, rings brushing gently, they dreamt about the blank page in their next chapter, and they smiled, holding each other close, like they had all the time in the world.

END


	6. Waiting for Love by Avicii

FRIDAY

 

Byulyi presses her back against her front door, one ear against the wood. She tightens her grip on the doorknob, fearfully hoping that the beating of her frantic heart won’t drown out the sound she’s waiting for. This feeling never deserts her, no matter how many times she stands in this very same spot, hand clammy as they warm up the very brushed silver knob. The hallway is quiet. The seconds tick by.

 

Ah, and there it is. The click of a door, the clink of keys, and the heavy clack, clack of a lock.

 

She takes in a chestful of air. Exhales. Inhales. Exhales once more. Runs her hand through her bangs with a false sense of calm, shakes her ponytail just a bit, and adjusts her tie. She clears her throat for good measure, then swings the door open.

 

“Ah, Byulyissi!”

 

Right on time.

 

They meet each other half-way by the elevator, their footsteps moving just a beat faster. Like clockwork every morning, Byulyi bows, and flashes her most charming smile.

 

“Yongsunssi,” she greets. “Good morning.”

 

Kim Yongsun is the woman of Byulyi’s dreams, even if neither has noticed the full extent of it yet. A successful, self-made entrepreneur with beauty, brains, and heart to match, she’s just the kind of girl whom Byulyi would love to introduce her friends and family to. She’s the kind of girl who would spoil you, and complain when you spoil her back, but you would know from the cute pout that she’s loving it too. Byulyi can tell all this from the sparkle in her eye when she greets her every morning. Or, she spends a little too much time thinking about this.

 

Yongsun bows back.

 

They reach for the elevator button at the same time, and gasp in unison when their fingers brush. Byulyi combs back her hair as coolly as she can with a shaking hand.

 

“After you,” she says with a sweep of her arm. Yongsun chuckles, and the elevator button lights up.

 

She casts discreet little glances at the woman beside her, but says nothing. Her brain rattles for words, but it’s overloaded enough in her efforts to keep cool. She riles herself up with a few words: You’re cool, Byul, very cool. Ladies love you, right? Probably? She has to cringe a little at her own half-hearted internal compliments when even her inner voice sounds as awkward as she feels. “So,” she says at last, “How’s it going?”

 

Very cool, Byul, she thinks with a roll of her eyes. And if she could punch herself without seeming even crazier than she already felt, she probably would.

 

Yongsun turns to her, brightens even more somehow, and it unfairly sets her heart beating even faster. “I’ve been doing well,” she says with a shy smile.

 

“Nice. Cool. Yeah. Me too.”

 

“I’m glad to hear.”

 

The elevator door slides open, and Byulyi stares at the gaping mouth for a while, wondering if it can just swallow her whole and save her from this embarrassment once and for all. But it’s far too late. She stands stock-still as she replays her lame lines over and over in her mind. Her brain entirely short-circuits.

 

“Are you coming, Byulyissi?”

 

She looks up. Yongsun looks like a vision under the dim yellow light inside the elevator, her reflection on every wall like a fleet of angels made in her image. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as she gazes out at Byulyi questioningly. Byulyi shoves her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and stiffly steps into the elevator, the metal door sliding just in time to jostle her shoulder. “Ow,” she mumbles. Very cool, Byul, came her brain’s glum response.

 

A hand tentatively brushes her shoulder, settling there like a leaf on a pond through the thin material of her T-shirt. “Are you alright?” Yongsun’s voice is soft as cotton, and Byulyi almost wants to injure herself every day just to hear the concern and feel the slow burn of her warm palm on her skin.

 

Byulyi pushes her hair back to try and save her last strands of dignity. “It’s nothing,” she says with a smile that was neither as cool nor cute as she’d aimed for when her upper lip twitches.

 

The elevator ride is too short, yet too long, especially when the mirrored walls reflect three Kim Yongsuns, all glancing at her once in awhile with a sense of expectancy that she's too tongue-tied to meet. “I like your shoes,” Byulyi says dumbly. She glances down only after the words leave her mouth to appreciate the way Yongsun’s cute little toes poke out of her heels.

 

But the smile she receives is sweet. “Thank you. A friend gave them to me.”

 

The next word rushes out instinctively: “Boyfriend?”

 

“Ah,” Yongsun sighs out. Her hesitation forms a lump on Byulyi’s throat, sends a chilling shiver down her spine. She regrets asking. So, so much. She regrets breaking the illusion, regrets seeing the pink tinge on her cheeks.

 

“It's…”

 

The elevator chimes and the door rumbles open. Byulyi shoots a look at her naked wrist. “Ah, look at that,” she mumbles, clumsily blows. “I’m running late. Have a good day.” And runs away.

 

She arrives at the studio thirty minutes early, and lays her head on her arm, her fingers absently pressing buttons and turning knobs on the soundboard. Her mind desperately trying to reconstruct the Yongsun of her dreams. To forget the nameless male figure beside her.

 

“Ah, unnie.” Byulyi shuts her eyes to the voice behind her. “Why do you look so gross today?”

 

A wave of hair tickles her shoulder. She can already feel the smirk behind that voice, mocking her at close range. She squeezes her eyes even tighter. “Unnie, unnie, unnie,” the voice sang.

 

“Go away, Hyejin,” Byulyi mumbles, her cheeks rubbing uncomfortably against the desk.

 

“Go away, Hyejin,” the voice mocks. Byulyi opens her eyes just enough to form a glare at the impervious woman before her. Hyejin stands with her hand on her cocked hips, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. She relaxes her arms when Byulyi continues to glare. Frown and glare. And it doesn’t take long for Hyejin to give in. With a groan and a flick of her eyes, she softens and squeezes her arm. “You look like you need a drink, unnie. Maybe even two. Or ten. What’s going on?”

 

Byulyi’s head feels like a wrecking ball when she lifts herself up to an upright position. She throws her head back, and it lolls to the side, giving Hyejin a full view at the saddest soul who ever lived. “She has a boyfriend.” 

 

Hyejin watches steadily, then crosses her arms when nothing intelligible comes out of Byulyi’s mouth. A minute into the narrative, the softness transforms and she holds up a palm. Her lips roll into a smirk, her voice bubbles up in a scoff, and she turns with a sway of her hips. “Cute,” her back says with a slight toss of her head. “But I’m not listening to another sob story about your little girl next door. I’ll be in the recording booth while you get your shit together and you’re ready to get to work.”

 

Byulyi gives herself the minute it takes for the rising star to walk away to wallow in her own self-pity. Her attempts to burn holes into Hyejin back doesn't really make her feel better. “Alright,” she says finally, “You ready?”

 

Hyejin’s voice is pure velvet through the studio’s crisp speakers: “Whenever you are.”

 

“Let’s run it through from the top.”

 

At least, Byulyi thinks, it’s Friday.

 

SATURDAY

 

The doorbell rings unexpectedly at a quarter to four, shrilly cutting into the tranquility of Byulyi’s afternoon. She picks herself up from the couch and peeks through the fisheye, where a brown bottle blocked her entire field of vision. “Open up, unnie.”

 

Byulyi frowns. She still isn’t over the shock of yesterday, and she wants nothing more than to spend an entire Saturday soaking up that fact. Alone. She swings open the door, determined to tell Hyejin exactly that. She takes her time, stews in her annoyance, but her blood freezes when Hyejin exploits the hesitation: “Oh! It's Yongsunssi! Hello! I’m a friend of Byulyi unnie’s. I've heard so much about you! Oh me? Just here to cheer her up. She was all torn up yesterday when she found out—”

 

The locks came undone faster than Byulyi can process. “AHN. HYE. JIN!” she roars, the door nearly flying off its hinges.

 

Two bodies push through her door, shaking with unsuppressed laughter. Byulyi hurriedly takes a step into the hallway where the empty stretch of green carpet greets her.

 

She glares backwards with gritted teeth. “Are you kidding me, Ahn Hyejin?” She growls.

 

Hyejin, reclining against her armrest across her couch, just scoffs. “Don't worry, unnie, she's not here. We saw her downstairs and told her what a big crybaby you are. That was pretty good though. I think I deserve an award. Right, Wheeinie?”

 

“Hyejin-ah!”

 

A different voice pipes up from her armchair. “Relax, unnie, we didn't tarnish your good image.” Two eyes, barely visible behind the back of the chair, curve up at her in a smile. “Too much.”

 

The door slams shut. Byulyi stalks over to her living room with her thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of her nose. “Hyejin, Wheein,” she starts slowly. “Why are you here?”

 

“Live entertainment.”

 

“Hyejin!” Wheein squeals. She giggles anyway when Hyejin sends her a little wink. Byulyi is certain, after years of getting to know them, that they're the only couple in the world capable of getting more and more gross over time despite having spent nearly their entire lives together. She easily gives into the urge to roll her eyes.

 

“Hyejin was worried about you,” Wheein says, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She grins when Hyejin shoots up from her seat, a hint of pink spreading over her cheeks and a number of fumbling protests spreading over her tongue. Wheein looks on fondly, and spreads her arms out. Silently, Hyejin gets up and fits herself against her, wrapping her arms around her waist and tucking her face in the crook of her neck. “It's okay, you big softie,” Wheein cooes.

 

Byulyi walks by them, makes a face, and claims Hyejin’s previous space on the couch. “You two are disgusting.”

 

Hyejin sticks a tongue out at her. “You’re—”

 

Wheein clamps a hand over Hyejin’s mouth and gives the bewildered girl a light kiss on her temple. Unwavering against Hyejin’s protests, she says, “We aren’t fighting today. Not when we brought beer.”

 

“It’s four!”

 

“There's never a bad time to party,” Wheein quips.

 

“Especially when you've been crying over the same girl ever since she moved in,” Hyejin says with a wave of her hand. “Especially if you're intent on crying over your problems rather than solving them.”

 

“So we’re here to cry with you! Over drinks!” Wheein adds cheerily. She sweeps an arm toward the dining table behind her with flourish, where several bulging plastic bags makes their presence known to Byulyi for the first time.

 

Byulyi runs a hand through her hair. “It's four in the afternoon,” she grumbles. But her eyes trail to the bags, and the gesture doesn't go unnoticed.  

 

Hyejin swings her legs over the side of the armchair, pushes herself off, and rummages through the bags to find and toss a golden can in Byulyi’s direction. With a yelp, Byulyi barely manages to bounce the can into her lap when the cold shocks her fingers.

 

She says nothing as a symphony of popping tabs, exhaling cans, and bass-heavy melodies fill every corner of her apartment. She feels herself being pulled to her feet by her limp arms—feels herself drowning in the energy, drowning in the way Yongsun’s smile is etched in her memory—and takes a good, long swig.

 

SUNDAY

 

She doesn’t remember a goddamn thing.

 

All she knows is that her head hurts like a mother, pulsing and clawing with so much regret. She swears not to drink anymore. Ever. It takes several long moments of aching to realize her head seems to be pounding to the beat of a fist against her door. Her door...her door... The sunlight hurt her eyes. The pounding turns into a ringing. Or is that her doorbell? She doesn’t remember standing up—realizing only moments later that she’d been laying face-first on her rug, empty cans and bottles strewn haphazardly around her head—and she doesn’t recall how difficult it is to be vertical as she slouches her way toward the door, stumbling and grabbing onto anything she can get her hands on: the back of her chair, the table, the counter, the wall, finally slamming against the door. “I’m coming,” she grumbles against the wood. Her hand swipes three times against the knob, the ringing in her head misdirecting her each time.

 

It seems like an eternity when she finally manages to open the door. Leaning on the frame with an elbow for support, she pokes her head out through the gap. “What do you want?” she growls, holding her forehead.

 

“Uhm.”

 

The soft voice jolts her awake. Yongsun. Yongsun in a pretty yellow sundress, bright and early, her pink cheeks flushed to complement her hair. It's a stark contrast, at the very least, to the grim mess in Byulyi’s apartment.

 

Like a crack in a dam, this realization dawns alongside many others. Suddenly she is hyper-aware of everything. The scent of fresh shampoo wafting in front the hallway, the blinding hallway light, the dazzling smile, the deep indents across her cheeks from her fibrous rug, and—glancing down—the fact that she, Moon Byulyi, musical genius and half-convincing lady killer, is not wearing any pants.

 

She ducks behind the door with an awkward laugh. “Can I help you, Yongsunssi?”

 

Yongsun blinks, a blush spreads—secondhand embarrassment, no doubt. “I’m, um, sorry if I...interrupted anything. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Some of our neighbours told me they heard some strange noises. I hope everything is alright?”

 

“S-strange noises?” Byulyi gapes and racks her brain, but she comes up empty and the implications weigh heavy in the air. “I don’t...remember.”

 

She swings the door open just a bit when Yongsun puffs up her cheeks a little, looking halfway between suspicious and concerned. Byulyi clears her voice. “Do you want to come in?” she asks coolly. But she hits her forehead against the frame of the door when she loses her grip on the knob and winces.

 

Yongsun giggles, but a loud voice cuts the embarrassment short.

 

“Unnie! Come back to bed!”

 

A second voice, thick with suggestion, joins in. “Don’t keep us waiting, Byulie-unnie.”

 

Her jaw drops in horror as she snaps back to look at Yongsun, almost hitting her head on the door a second time. The spluttered explanations come out in clumps, hands gesturing in cacophonic accompaniment, her head all the while pounding with dread and regret. She can barely comprehend what she tells Yongsun. Please understand, her eyes plead.

 

But Yongsun’s giggle slows to an awkward laughter, and the sound feels like a javelin through the heart.

 

“I better not,” she says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She looks up in that pretty way and bites her lip, and Byulyi’s heart nearly stops. “You seem to have company.”

 

Chills run down her spine. Her inner world is a mess of confusion, abstract shapes and half-formed words, but she wills herself to take a deep breath. Tries to remember how to function as a human being. “Sorry,” she finally says, leaning her head on her door once more, one hand over the side of her cheek where the rug made its mark. But the apology sounds small and hollow, and she isn't quite sure what she's apologizing for, but it feels right. She is sorry for so many things that she didn't know where to begin, so she starts again: “Sorry that you had to see me like this. We accidentally ended up drinking a lot.” She swallows the urge to ramble. “The girls are idiots, but they’re good kids. So...whatever you heard, it’s probably nothing?” She pauses for a moment and cranes back to give her apartment a long glance. “I hope whatever you heard wasn’t sexual. I swear to god if those two idiots…”

 

Yongsun chuckles, light and airy this time, and Byulyi smiles, the response Pavlovian. “I understand,” she says. “Your friends seem fun.”

 

“Yeah. Sometimes. Until you get to know them,” Byulyi replies. Though she cannot deny the affection for the two girls.

 

“Well, it’s good to know you’re alright. Maybe I’ll see you around?”

 

“Y-yeah. Yeah. I’ll...see you.”

 

With a wave and a smile, Yongsun left. Byulyi can’t bring herself to watch her return to her own suite, and closes her door instead, leaning her back against it with a heavy sigh. The meeting seems like nothing short of a disaster, polite as Yongsun was. She must think I’m some kind of crazy, drunken, sex maniac, Byulyi thinks sullenly.  

 

“Ahn Hyejin! Jung Wheein!” she shouts. “I’m going to kill both of you!”

 

MONDAY

 

Byulyi locks her door with a sigh. She decides, like she had tried and failed so many times before, to stop waiting at her door for the familiar scrape of wood and metal. It’s a success, but it doesn’t feel right when she reaches out for the elevator button alone. The halls seem so wide suddenly, and every movement seems to echo so loudly.

 

She isn’t ready to face Yongsun, even if she did nothing wrong. To her knowledge. A part of her  wants to knock on her door, rush in and just kiss her. If she thinks she’s crazy anyway, why not? A part of her doesn’t understand why she is so worked up over the short interaction. It didn’t go that poorly, not even in her overplayed memories. It was certainly one of the longest interactions that they’ve ever shared. If only she didn't get swept along so easily. If only those two idiots didn't have a crazy, drunken Rihanna concert by themselves in the middle of the goddamn night.

 

It's too late for regrets. As much as she wants to indulge in the art of fruitless complaining, maybe things are just not meant to be. Yeah, she's afraid to know what Yongsun really thinks of her. And, yeah, she wants to know where this damn longing can go. She can’t possibly spend every day of her life craving her proximity, stuttering like a fool just to try and unravel her secrets, one layer at a time. But what else can she do?

 

“Why are you such a fucking coward?”

 

That was Hyejin. Caught in the heat of their argument yesterday, they’d fired up all the wrong weapons, ripped out all the wrong chords, and Byulyi had sent them both out the door at the pinnacle of her anger.

 

“Unnie, this is stupid.”

 

That was Wheein. Just as Hyejin was dragging her off by the hand, she had given her this look. Wide, sad eyes that reflected the irrationality Byulyi had spent so long denying.

 

This is stupid.

 

She steps into the elevator, dreading the thought of work. The thought of working with the wild and unruly Hyejin after their fight gives her goosebumps. She trusts their friendship to mend, knowing how her moods can be. She trusts her to be professional, but she knows that she won’t make it easy.

 

The work day passes in a wave of stunted conversations and quiet sighs. Wheein comes in after class with a small cake during the extra hours they spend working on Hyejin’s track, and Byulyi watches, poking at her own piece with a fork as Wheein feeds away the anger in Hyejin’s eyes. There are no snide comments this time when Wheein wipes the cream from Hyejin’s bottom lip with her thumb. Instead, she simply admires—though not without a tinge of envy—the beauty of the composition: the image of Hyejin’s lips against Wheein's cheek, their open smiles when Hyejin thanks her for the cake, the way Wheein leans into the palm of Hyejin’s hand on her back, and the way Hyejin does the same when Wheein cups her cheek, gently reprimanding her about her temper. Byulyi wonders if they notice these things too.

 

The sun has long set by the time Byulyi stumbles into her lobby. She rolls a shoulder back and stretches, feels the fatigue right down to her bones as she shuffles toward the elevator.

 

“Byulyissi,” a surprised voice says.

 

Byulyi whirls around, and is immediately met with a mirrored look of surprise. Yongsun strides toward her, her hair bouncing in waves around her shoulders, with a man trailing closely behind. He has the kind of face you’d bring home to your parents then immediately ditch on the curb, Byulyi thinks. His presence behind Yongsun is a challenge, and she straightens her spine immediately in response. He looks on with a sweet smile that Byulyi wants to punch off his face. Not that she really would. He looks like such a nice, teddy bear kind of guy that it's unfair. She can't even hate him! It's just not right.

 

The surprise quickly descends into polite bows and tight smiles. The concierge looks up at them from his newspaper with a quirked brow.

 

“Hi,” Yongsun says sweetly, “how are you feeling today?”

 

“Better,” Byulyi replies, pushing her hair along the curve of her head and to the side. “How are you?”

 

They exchange pleasantries all the way to the elevator, and it isn’t until the button is pressed and Byulyi’s eyes have flickered between them a dozen times that Yongsun seems to remember the man behind her.

 

“Oh!” She raises a hand and presents him like a consolation prize. “This is Eric.” Eric waves. Stupidly, Byulyi adds.

 

But she plays it cool and extends a hand. The American way, she thinks. They take a step forward to enter the arena, where he grips her hand firmly with a weak, mismatched smile. His hand is a little clammy, maybe a few shades shy of holding a small monsoon in his palm, and it takes more muscle control than she had to hide the grimace. Fortunately, she didn't have long to think about the warm fish sausages around her hand--he gives her an unexpectedly strong shake that sends her stumbling into Yongsun, who reflexively presses her palms into her shoulders.

 

Her face must be a thousand degrees hot by the time she finds her footing—finds her hands on Yongsun’s hips, and Yongsun’s hands on her shoulder. Her sweet scent is intoxicating. Byulyi wants nothing more than to push the boyfriend aside and kiss her until they both forget their own name. But she notices the embarrassed shade of pink on Yongsun’s face, hears the awkward laugh. Reality closes in, and she leaps away.

 

“Sorry,” she mumbles, straightening herself up once more to resist the urge to calm her racing heart with a flattened palm. She clears her throat and stands just a little too far. Yongsun shakes her head and gives her a  little smile. Byulyi shifts her longing gaze to the glowing white button. Please hurry, she begs her promise of escape.

 

But the elevator couldn't care less. The numbers seem to stop on every floor, just to spite her.

 

“Have you eaten yet, Byulyissi?” Yongsun says politely.

 

The question takes her aback. She presses a hand on her stomach. The empty cough echoing inside tells her she hasn’t eaten since Wheein’s cake hours ago. “Ah, I must’ve forgotten,” Byulyi says sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck to avoid Yongsun’s eyes.

 

“I'm thinking of making dinner. Do you want to join us? We always make too much anyway.”

 

She blinks up at them, unsure if she heard correctly. Unsure if she wants to hear correctly. The elevator dings, and she has the seconds it takes to walk inside to come up with an answer before she falls outside social decorum. “That sounds cozy,” she says, buying herself another moment to panic. She wants more than anything to get to know Yongsun. But to see her in her own domestic world, her an observer—she doesn’t know if she can do it. “I don’t want to intrude.”

 

“Oh! It’s no trouble at all!” She adds softly, “Really.”

 

Byulyi meets her gaze, sees it reflected on all sides in her peripheral, and gives Eric a long, weary look. “Really, I don’t want to interrupt your evening,” she says, hoping her voice sounds less bitter than she felt. “Enjoy yourselves.”

 

“Are you sure?” It’s Eric who speaks this time, his voice stupidly warm to match his stupidly kind face. “We’re just having tteokbokki. It’s Yongsun’s favourite.” He smiles down at her affectionately, but Yongsun doesn't look. Her expectant gaze stubbornly adamant on giving Byulyi a heart attack.

 

She wants to say yes.

 

“No,” she says instead, “I should get to bed.”

 

There’s a flicker of something in Yongsun’s eyes, but the elevator dings and the door slides open. All she catches is a resigned sigh and a gentle goodbye.

 

And all she can think about is how lucky Eric is to be sharing a plate of homemade tteokbokki with a woman like Yongsun.

 

TUESDAY

 

Byulyi wakes up groggy on a hot Tuesday morning.

 

She had spent the night cycling between what ifs and half-hearted vows to give up altogether. As she sat at her dining room reading the same two lines on her open novel last night, she thought she heard a murmur in the halls, and, against her better judgement, poked her head out just in time to see Eric say goodbye. The clock had struck midnight an hour ago, but at least he didn't stay the night. Not that it’s any of her business. Yongsun is a grown woman. She can do whatever she wants. Whoever she wants, she adds with a lump in her throat.

 

She listens at her front door at the usual time, and doesn’t wait. She expects the day to breeze by, much like yesterday. One day will be easier than the next, and, eventually, breathing will be easier. Maybe one day, they’ll even be friends.

 

She doesn’t expect to trip over the gift on her doorstep.

 

It’s like discovering a treasure chest when she picks up the small, pink cotton bag by the straps and sets it on her dining table. She fishes out the periwinkle blue, plastic lunchbox, holds it delicately between her hands. It’s still warm. It must be a mistake. But the slip of paper at the bottom of the bag, with her name in pink pen printed neatly along the top, seems to indicate otherwise. She picks it up like a leaf of gold between her fingers. The stationary, framed by cherry blossoms, is as cute as the round handwriting. “Please remember to eat,” the note says simply. "Your neighbour, Kim Yongsun."

 

It can't be. She stares at the signature while the minutes crawl by. It can't be, yet here it is, the letters heartbreakingly impassive yet hopelessly warm. Your neighbour, Byulyi chuckles, as if she can ever forget. 

 

But still, this can't be. 

 

Byulyi’s heart stops when she removes the lid. Tteokbokki. No, no, no, It can't be. This can’t be red, glistening, homemade tteokbokki swimming before her eyes. She was ready to skip breakfast until the work day begins, but the big, marshmallowy rice cakes look so delicious and inviting. Any progress she had made in forgetting Yongsun is gone in a heartbeat.

 

She covers the container, packs it into her work bag, and carries it, along with the butterflies, to work.

 

“Wow, someone’s got a gross smile on their face today,” Hyejin says as she steps out of the booth. “Thank god I didn’t notice it earlier. Your face would’ve ruined my voice.”

 

“She’s been grinning all day, Hyejinie,” Wheein says, swivelling around in her chair, “but she won’t tell me what happened. Make it stop. It’s freaking me out.” She rolls over to Hyejin and hands her a bottle of water, which is received with a quick kiss on the lips.

 

“You’re both so rude.”

 

“Yet you’ve still got that creepy smile on your face,” Hyejin shoots back. “So, are you going to join us for lunch? We’re gonna order in since Wheein has work to do.”

 

She has been waiting for this moment all day. Has been mentally practicing her triumphant smirk for this very moment. Not even Hyejin’s exasperated eyeroll can ruin this for her. “Actually,” she says with a flip of her hair, “I brought my own.”

 

The looks on her friends’ faces is exactly what she is looking for, sending Byulyi into a fit of laughter that folds her over and nearly topples her off her chair.

 

“You...cooked?” Wheein asks incredulously.

 

“No,” she replies, wiping a stray tear. “I didn’t cook.”

 

“She probably just bought it from the convenience store,” Hyejin says with another roll of her eyes.

 

“Nope.”

 

They gape, first at her, then at each other in astounding synchronicity. “Spill!” Hyejin demands. Wheein nods eagerly. But Byulyi just shrugs, and makes her way to the break room. They follow her in a storm of noise, ranging from pleading to whining to demanding, a flurry of “Unniiie” uttered at every pitch, volume, and tone.

 

“What the fuck is that?” Hyejin breaths when Byulyi pulls out the blue box from the fridge.

 

“A lunch box.”

 

“A handmade lunch box? Like...with love?”

 

Byulyi removes the lid and gingerly places the box in the microwave. She turns back to the girls with a satisfied grin while the microwave purred. “Someone made it for me, that’s all.”

 

“That was tteokbokki, wasn’t it?” Wheein says.

 

“Homemade tteokbokki,” Hyejin adds.

 

“Who made it for you, unnie?”

 

“Yeah, you don’t just casually take the time to make food for people for no reason. Even Wheein doesn’t make me lunchboxes.”

 

“Hey! You don’t make me lunch either.”

 

At the familiarly obnoxious beep, she retrieves the smoking box from the microwave and carefully sets it down on the table. Hyejin and Wheein scramble to sit in front of her, forks ready in hand. Byulyi frowns. “I’m not sharing this,” she says, pushing her lunch closer toward herself.

 

“What? No! You’re not keeping that to yourself.”

 

“Yeah, it looks so delicious!”

 

Byulyi sticks out her tongue. “Get your own.”

 

Wheein turns to Hyejin when realization dawns. “It’s from Yongsunssi, isn’t it?”

 

Hyejin lifts her glare just long enough to return Wheein’s awed expression. She narrows her eyes at the box. “No way. Is it? No. What? Oh my god, is it really?”

 

“She was just being nice,” Byulyi says with a shrug. She spears a rice cake with a fork, and admires the red sauce sliding off, clinging on. The first bite is delicious. The second, addicting. She sighs blissfully, eyes closed as she attempts to capture every nuance in the flavour and texture.

 

“You look like you just wet your pants in all the wrong ways.”

 

“Hyejin!”

 

But Byulyi doesn’t apologize. It’s the best tteokbokki she’s ever had.

 

“It’s okay.” Her eyes snap open at the sound of Hyejin’s muffled voice, and glares at the offending rice cakes on each of the girls’ forks.

 

“I told you I’m not sharing!” she cries, holding the box nearly to her chest.

 

“Well, it’s not bad,” Wheein supplies, ignoring her. “Not the best either.”

 

“Texture’s pretty good.”

 

“You don’t really like tteokbokki though, Wheeinie, and this isn’t spicy enough for you.”

 

“Yeah, you’re right.”

 

“You two are horrible,” Byulyi huffs.

 

“But you know, unnie,” Wheein says, reaching over to wipe off a hint of sauce left over on Hyejin’s lip with a pinky, “this is pretty beyond normal neighbourly kindness.”

 

Byulyi shrugs again, even though she wants to sing at the mere thought of Wheein’s implications. “I met her boyfriend last night. They even invited me up for dinner. They probably just made too much and stuff.”

 

“Are you sure that was her boyfriend?” Hyejin asks.

 

Byulyi chews. Doesn’t say anything.

 

“Yeah,  if I wanted to have a nice romantic evening with Hyejin, I’m certainly not  going to go around inviting my neighbour to join in. Even if it’s you.”

 

“I feel like I’m enough of a third-wheel without a formal invitation,” Byulyi says with quirked  brow. She gestures to their clasped hands and wandering eyes. “Like right now. Like pretty much every time I see the two of you together.”

 

“Wheein has a point,” Hyejin says, waving her free hand around in emphasis. “Did you see them all lovey-dovey?”

 

“Not every couple needs to be as gross as you two.”

 

“Yeah, but there are little things!” Wheein chirps. “Little brushes, looks. I don’t know. Chemistry? Body language? You can just tell if they’re really in love.”

 

Byulyi shakes her head. “Don’t get my hopes up, Wheeinie. I’m...I’m just going to return the container tonight and that’s it. I’m not even going to think about coming in between a beautiful couple. They...look good together.”

 

“So do you. I can see it,” Hyejin says with a tilt of her head. “We weren’t lying when we saw her the other day in the lobby. She saw us holding hands and told us we’re cute. I mean, anyone with eyes can see that we’re cute, but not many people would openly say it, you know?” Wheein nodded eagerly. “Maybe you should try harder before you give up.”

 

Wheein shakes her head, gives Hyejin a slight nudge in the shoulder with her own. “That’s not up to us, Hyejinie,” she says. Then she turns to Byulyi. “Unnie, I just hope you know that no matter what kind of silly thoughts you’ve been having, you deserve a girl who makes you tteokbokki and packs it in a pretty blue lunchbox as much as the next person.”

 

Byulyi swallows the remainder of her rice cake, the sweet and spicy burn leaving a warm buzz in her stomach. She doesn’t know what to say.

 

It’s another late night as the deadline for Hyejin’s new album draws close, and the entire neighbourhood seems to be empty by the time she gets back to her complex. She gives the concierge a nod that goes unnoticed from behind the newspaper, and runs a hand through her hair, shuffles along--thankful that no one is around. The elevator arrives as soon as the button is pressed, and it’s just her and her reflections all the way up. So she whistles the tune of Hyejin’s new song, sputtering to a stop when the elevator doors stops on her floor.

 

She puts her things down and takes out the lunchbox. You can’t return a box empty, she thinks as she rinses it out. And maybe this is just the opportunity she needs. Eric or no Eric. If only her fridge wasn’t so damn empty.

 

WEDNESDAY

 

The concierge doesn’t look up from his newspaper when she jogs through the lobby a second time. And when she passes him for the third time, with bags full of groceries, he’s engrossed in a drama blasting through the crackly speakers of his cell phone. Oh, but of course she forgets the eggs. She patters by him a fourth time. When she returns to pass him for the fifth time, he finally looks up. “Go to bed, Byulyissi. It’s almost two in the morning,” he grumbles. “Crazy young people.”

 

She simply laughs and returns to the apartment, shivering with excitement.

 

Three hours later, her kitchen is a wasted battlefield: dirty bowls, spatulas, spoons, and cups fighting for space along globs of wasted batter and burnt crumbs. The recipe was supposed to be simple. Except recipes are seldom foolproof, and Byulyi is just the kind of culinary fool who can’t tell between salt and sugar, the difference between tablespoon and teaspoon. Five trays of cookies later, there are just enough perfect—or nearly perfect—little circles to fill the blue box. The rest, though edible, range from innocuously misshapen messes to this-is-not-how-cookies-should-taste. Avant garde cookies, she decides, as she throws all of it into a big paper bag. She scribbles “Hyejin” and “Wheein” on the side of the bag with a marker and a grin. They’ll appreciate the treat, she thinks, even if it’s a game of Russian roulette. Maybe they’ll appreciate the adventure.

 

By the time the kitchen is clean, and the box is packed into the cotton bag with a painstakingly crafted two-line note, the sky is the colour of flame. It’s too late to sleep now, her watch tells her. Running on her last dregs of adrenaline, she quickly sneaks out into the hall and drops the bag off by Yongsun’s door.

 

By the time her alarm rings for the day, she is exiting a coffee shop, a large coffee in hand, and well on her way to work. The streets are empty as the sun awakens alongside Seoul. She reaches out to catch the light in her fingers, and smiles at the way it sets her fingers ablaze. She thinks back to her note, and wonders if Yongsun will let her step into her light in the same way.

 

“Thank you for the food,” she had written simply. “It was delicious. Please join me for dinner tomorrow and allow me to return the favour.”

 

It’s formal. Cordial. But it was the hardest sentence she had ever written. All she can do now is wait. Grip her phone tightly, hope Yongsun will see her number scribbled on the bottom, and wait.

 

Nothing.

 

She waits all day, and nothing.

 

They finish Hyejin’s album and the release date is set. Tears and hugs and cheers wash in from every direction. But there is also nothing. She can barely force a smile, even when Wheein and Hyejin prank the entire company with her salty and misshapen cookies. Even when the everyone else is swept with beer and joy in the celebration, she and her phone sit silently.

 

Hyejin and Wheein pour beer down her throat to muffle the sting of rejection. “Months of work, unnie,” Hyejin says, shaking her head, “don’t let one girl ruin that for you.” Byulyi nods, even though it’s too late.

 

Several more drinks allow her to forget long enough to enjoy the party. Several more after that has her staggering into the lobby of her building. Someone calls her name, but the ground is moving too much for her to respond. All she knows is that her whole body is heavy, gravity is not her friend, and that the elevator button needs to stop moving. Finally, the button lights up and blooms into five more buttons in her blurry vision. She watches, mesmerized, wondering how the building managed to install moving buttons.

 

Her eyes struggle to stay open. Darkness.

 

God damn her jaw hurts.

 

She opens her eyes to find herself sprawled across the floor of the elevator. Her arms flail all around her, scratching at the walls for something to hold onto, but comes up empty. Lying down is always easier than standing. And so she resigns. 

 

She hears her name again.

 

She slurs something vaguely resembling a question. Damn, it’s warm. She claws at her shirt. The fabric itches. She just wants to take everything off, but it’s so damn hard to keep her eyes open.

 

It’s warm.

 

Comfortable.

 

And she is so, so sleepy.

 

THURSDAY

 

Something jolts her awake, and it rattles her brains. With a groan, both hands reach for her throbbing head. I’m never drinking again, she silently vows. Her body screams regret in her face, and the fiery morning sun seems to have a personal vendetta against her. She twists around in her blankets, away from her window.

 

Wait.

 

How did she get in bed?

 

She shoots up, instantly regretting it as pain blossoms along her jaw, and howls. Her hand clasps against the injury, but it isn’t enough to contain the jabbing—a thousand tiny knives, all concentrated in a concerted effort to make her life miserable.

 

A quick patter of bare feet across hardwood sounds in another room, and stops at the threshold. “Are you okay?” A soft voice floats in.

 

Byulyi widens her eyes. In her doorway, Kim Yongsun stood, tentatively watching from behind the frame, her hair mussed, pajamas wrinkled, yet somehow looking more attractive than ever. “Y-Yongsunssi,” she gasps.

 

Then, one after another, things begins to sink in. This blanket isn’t hers. The window, the dresser, the table, the mirror, the photographs. None of these things are hers. Even the long, cotton T-shirt on her body isn’t hers. The realization sets her cheeks on fire.

 

Yesterday. She doesn’t remember anything. Again.

 

As if sensing the question on her tongue, Yongsun explains. “The concierge saw you in the lobby last night. Do you remember coming in?”

 

Byulyi shakes her head.

 

“Well, you fell into the elevator and bruised your jaw. He brought you up to our floor, and we couldn’t find your keys, so...here we are. Oh, um, here. I boiled an egg for you. In case you woke up early. Ah, hold on.” She disappears, nervously almost, then returns with a hardboiled egg. Byulyi reaches out, but Yongsun shakes her head. “Let me,” she says, seating herself close enough for their thighs to touch.

 

“Bear with me, okay?” she whispers, fingers reaching up to caress the side of Byulyi’s face.

 

She tries not to wince when the warm egg rolls across her bruise—Yongsun is so close, and she doesn’t want to jeopardize the moment in any way. “Does it hurt?” Yongsun says, her voice low with concern.

 

“No.”

 

Byulyi doesn’t know what compels her to cover Yongsun’s hand with her own, but it feels right somehow, and she blames the hangover when she doesn’t fight the instinct. In a single moment, when she feels Yongsun tense at her touch, she chokes. She was on the verge of letting her go and running away, once and for all. From that moment alone.

 

But she bites the bullet and waits.  

 

The egg stops. Time stops. The air between them, thick with anticipation, feels like swimming in jello. Yongsun relaxes, tugging a smile on Byulyi’s lips. Slowly, carefully, like taming a wild animal, Byulyi inches her hand into Yongsun’s hair, and sweeps it back behind her ear.

 

The details on her face are mesmerizing, and the words escape before she could reel them back. “You’re so beautiful.”

 

Yongsun gasps softly.

 

The words feel like a weight off her chest, and for the first time, despite her sore, sleep-addled state, Byulyi isn’t nervous. Even if this is her first and last moment with Yongsun, it feels like breathing. But better. Suddenly she isn’t sure whether she’d ever come across this feeling before. It’s so delicate and new, and surely this must be transient. Something so beautiful can’t be hers forever. But she has to know. Has to know if, at the very least, she can keep a souvenir of this moment.

 

“May I kiss you?” Byulyi whispers.

 

She watches through hazy eyes as Yongsun swallows. She can feel the slight vibrations of her nervous fingers along her own cheek, the warmth of her glowing face, and the breath of air on her lips as she exhales her consent.

 

Byulyi runs a thumb along the line of Yongsun’s cheek. Soft, pillowy, and sweet. Her eyes flutter close as she tries to memorize every dip and curve of her lips against her own. But she wills herself to pull away. Wills herself not to dirty something so chaste and beautiful. Most of all, she wills herself not to cry.

 

“You’re crying,” Yongsun whispers, wiping away the stray tears from the corner of her eyes.

 

“Sorry.”

 

“Why are you sorry? That was...really nice,” she says with a shy smile. Byulyi’s heart leaps, but she tears her gaze away toward the window, squinting into the morning sun just to avoid losing herself in her eyes.

 

“I’m...I’m glad,” Byulyi says. “Thank you.”

 

Three gentle fingers press against her cheek, carefully avoiding the bruise, and turns her head. “Why are you thanking me?” Yongsun asks, her dancing brown eyes boring into her own.

 

“F-For...letting me...e-e-experience.” She takes a breath before continuing: “For letting me experience something I’ve only dared to dream about before.”

 

Yongsun says nothing, but she doesn't move away. She simply smiles, and nuzzles into Byulyi’s palm.

 

“Eric is a lucky man,” Byulyi finally says, a half-hearted smile hanging lopsided on her lips, “I hope he treasures you.”

 

“What?”

 

Yongsun drops her hand. The egg rolls off the bed with a crack, cutting through the silence like shattered glass.

 

“Eric?”

 

Byulyi musters up a more convincing smile as she picks up Yongsun’s hands from her lap, cradling them in her own. “Look,” she says. “I...like you a lot. You’re the sweetest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, but I’m not...going to get in the way of your happiness. I’m...more than happy to be your friend, and—”

 

“There’s nothing between me and Eric.”

 

“What?”

 

“He and I...He’s like a brother to me, as much as my parents hate that. He can be a little overprotective, but he's been my guardian angel since I came out to my parents. I...well...it's a complicated history and...um”—her hands break free of Byulyi’s to loop around and interlace their fingers together—“maybe I can tell you about it over dinner tonight? That's...if you still want to.”

 

Byulyi blinked. “Y-yeah! O-of course! I just...thought…I didn't hear from you….so I thought….”

 

Yongsun giggles. “Of course I do,” she says, pressing a soft kiss on her lips. “I’ve wanted to ever since I met you. I tried calling you, you know. To thank you for the cookies and all. But this man kept picking up. I called him so many times that I think he actually got mad at me.”

 

She recites Byulyi’s number by heart to prove her point, and, sure enough, she had either misremembered her own phone number, or had the handwriting of a limbless chicken in the adrenaline-fuelled 3am haze. Her own damn phone number! How did her zero turn into a nine, and her one turn into a seven? Her hands fall from Yongsun’s to bury her face in them while she decides whether to laugh or cry. Maybe both.

 

She doesn’t even want to think about how upset she was yesterday. Over her own silly mistake!

 

Yongsun laughs, openly and loudly--the joy unmistakable in her decibels. But by the time Byulyi looks up, fascinated, Yongsun’s hand had already trapped the sounds inside. “Sorry,” she mumbles into her fingers, “that was really embarrassing.”

 

Byulyi chuckles, and gently peel her fingers from her lips. “Your laugh is really cute,” she whispers into the inch of space between them. “Don’t ever hide it from me, okay?”

 

Yongsun looks up, her teeth tugging at her bottom lip so invitingly that Byulyi boldly closes the space, smiling into it when Yongsun doesn’t pull away. It’s chaste at first, just like their first kiss. She didn’t want to dirty something so beautiful and pure, but when Yongsun’s hands push her down by collarbone, and her legs swing over to straddle her hips, she doesn’t think Yongsun would mind.

 

But she is nothing if not a gentlewoman. It’s with great effort that she manages to pry her hands from Yongsun’s hips, even more so when her hands gently pushes her back by the shoulders. And it takes everything not to pull her back when she sees Yongsun hovering above her on shaking arms, chest heaving, eyes glazed, lips parted. “That...escalated quickly,” Byulyi murmurs. “Maybe we should...slow it down a bit.”

 

It’s unconvincing to her own ears, but Yongsun is far too special for this. Even though she’s never met anyone nearly as magnetic, she knows has to be something more.

 

“Sorry,” Yongsun says, her voice rough with an edge that would’ve destroyed Byulyi’s resolve altogether if Yongsun didn’t fall face-first into the blankets in attempt to scramble off her. When she gets up, she flashes the most endearing smile in hopes to cover her clumsiness. Byulyi laughs, and climbs off the bed. With a flourish, she offers Yongsun a hand from the foot of her bed, and pulls her up.

 

Toe to toe, heart to heart, Byulyi runs a thumb across Yongsun’s cheeks. They exchange a smile, relishing in the intimacy of proximity.

 

“Maybe,” Yongsun says shyly, tucking her hair behind her ear, “you'd be interested in joining me for breakfast too?”

 

Byulyi grins. She’s certain that she looks like an idiot, but nothing is further from her mind as she envisions breakfasts, lunches, and dinners every day beside this woman. It’s too soon. Maybe it’s too soon. But god does it make her grin like an idiot.  

 

Besides, she's waited long enough.

 

“I’d love to.”

 

END


	7. The Award

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was based on an interaction between Kate Winslet and Allison Janney. I've written a version for Swanqueen entitled A Cinematic Love Story. Part A has a lot of similarities, but I've adapted Part B to be very different.

  **Side A**

Wheein fidgeted in her seat.

Nearly a year ago, the young actress held no hope for success when she burst into auditions on a dare—never in her dreams had she expected to be sitting in a velvet-covered auditorium filled to the brim with tight dresses and prim suits.

“Are you alright?” Wheein turned to the woman beside her and recognized her immediately as the lead actress in last year’s award-winning animation. The poignant story of two animals overcoming inequality in an allegorical masterpiece had moved Wheein to tears. All she could do was gape, partially to suppress her inner cinephile, and partially because despite how much she loved the film, she could not remember the actress’s name.

“Miss Jung?”

A celebrity was saying her name! Oh God, she knew her name, her frantic mind screamed. Outwardly, her lips pressed into a thin smile. “I’m fine, thank you,” she said calmly.

“Is it your first time at these events?”

Wheein nodded. “It’s, uh, not really my thing.”

Wheein hated these fancy events. When she received the invitation a few months ago, she had scoffed and nearly tore the envelope in two. Film, she argued, was an art form. These events were an insult to the craft, and, as she told her producer, “A day for all the rich jerks to stroke each other’s dicks.” Her producer had cringed, then said five little words that changed everything:

“Ahn Hyejin will be there.”

And sure enough, two rows down, exactly five seats to the right, poised perfectly below the chandelier, was Ahn Hyejin. Wheein sighed in her direction.

Before Ahn Hyejin, Wheein was a regular film buff. The kind who could recite lines, and rhapsodize about the mise-en-scene without ever remembering an actor’s name—they were just part of the art, she said, why should they get all the accolades? But smouldering, perfect Ahn Hyejin, two-time Academy Award nominee with a twenty-three-film track record, introduced Wheein to the world of _obsession._

The actress was, by all accounts, an underdog in the world of sparkle and glamour, but if anyone asked Wheein, Ahn Hyejin was perfect. Not only was she talented and professional, she was charitable, loving, and melted her cool exterior just for her fans. She couldn’t tell you why all of these factors mattered, but if anyone contested these facts, she would fight them tooth and nail.

The dare, in fact, had been a ridiculous attempt to get over her obsession—her walls were running out of space for her posters, after all. Unexpectedly, Wheein found that she had great talent for acting, and quickly garnered a following.

It was no secret that Wheein was crazy about Ahn Hyejin. Last July, she had sat in her apartment with sweating palms as tweeted “Happy birrthday!” at the actress’s official handle. She then spent the rest of her day kicking herself for the ridiculous typo while her loyal fans gathered as many likes as possible in an attempt to get Hyejin’s attention. Wheein could still remember the way her heart soared when she received a reply: “Thank you. I love your work.”

She must’ve read it a million times. In fact, she even contemplated printing out the tweet and framing it, but her last shreds of dignity held her back.

Suddenly, the lights dimmed. Wheein looked to the woman beside her, realizing just then that she had been so busy gawking longingly at Ahn Hyejin that she’d completely shut down the woman beside her. She sighed once more, briefly lamenting her lost chance at befriending a celebrity because she was too busy pining over a woman two rows down, much too far away for her short reach.

The host crossed the stage to proceed with the ceremony. Unimpressed, Wheein dozed off during the opening monologue. In fact, she slept through most of the awards, and would have continued sleeping soundly in her seat with her arms crossed if it weren’t for a sudden white light burning directly through her eyelids.

Jolting awake, she cursed under her breath. The white light filled her vision as she heard her name being called from far away. She couldn’t see the hundreds of eyes watching her, but somehow felt the prickle of their gaze uncomfortably against her. A brief moment of mortification flashed through her mind as she pictured Ahn Hyejin watching her rub the sleep out of her eyes.

“The award for Best New Actress goes to Jung Wheein!” The presenter repeated.

Applause and cheering filled Wheein’s ears. She awkwardly slipped out of the row of theatre seats and down the steps toward the stage in a surreal haze. She wondered whether she was still dreaming. Would her friends laugh at her now for being a part of a system she once hated? She was so deep in her disbelief as she crossed the stage that she paid no attention to any other living beings around her. It was only when she reached the glass podium that she recognized the perfectly coifed head that she had spent so much of the evening familiarizing herself with. Ahn Hyejin, her soul squeaked at her in high-frequency panic. She stopped, several steps shy of the podium, and froze, as if she would pass out as soon as she stepped closer.

Hyejin blinked back at her, and extended the trophy in her hand.

The crowd was still cheering, perhaps. Wheein couldn’t hear a thing over the beating of her own heart.

When Wheein made no move to receive the trophy, Hyejin furrowed her brows. She stepped forward and grabbed the young actress by the wrist to position her in front of the podium. Wheein woke up at the light touch, and blushed, mumbling her apology as she grabbed the trophy just a bit too aggressively in her flustered state.

“Uhm,” she said into the microphone, flinching a little at the unexpected volume of her own voice, “Thank you so much.” She ran through a list of people she wanted to thank as she grappled to recall the hastily composed speech her agent had made her write. Finally, she took a breath. “This is just the beginning of my journey, but I feel so honoured to be in this room with so many amazing talents.” Unable to recall any other names, she blurted, “L-like Ahn Hyejin!” She turned to her with a nervous grin. The woman responded with a quirk of an eyebrow, though she looked decidedly amused. “You are such an inspiration and I just want to be you. I know you don’t know me very well aside from that one time I wished you happy birthday—not that I’m expecting you to remember—but, y’know, you’re super great and I want to be you.” Her eyes flicked down to Hyejin’s smirking lips. “Or, like, touch you in a totally not creepy way. Or kiss you. Something like that. Anyway, I—”

Hyejin stepped into her space and leaned into the microphone. “That could be arranged,” she said in a low purr. 

The crowd roared.

Wheein was about to pinch herself when Hyejin gently held her jaw and kissed her—bold, confident, and with enough heat to melt Wheein from the inside out. So much so that she was sure she blacked out for a moment afterwards.

The crowd went wild with Wheein’s beating heart.

When she is seated again, people all around her congratulated her. She thanked them automatically, but if not for the glass trophy in her hand, she never would’ve believed it was real. She brought a finger to her lips, then looked on at the familiar place two rows down.

Ahn Hyejin was back in her seat.

This time, their eyes met.

 

**SIDE B**

 

On a clear, summer morning, Hyejin laid by the poolside with her tablet perched on her torso. A warm breeze swept through the city and across her rooftop, brushing her hair across her eyes. Absentmindedly, she tucked her hair behind her ear. She barely registered the small gesture while she was glued to the screen before her.

The opening credits began. The simple monochromatic sequence unfolded predictably with a sweeping aerial pan, and a slow zoom into the city. Unpredictably, however, something was about to happen to Ahn Hyejin.

The camera dove into the city, through a perfectly centered window, then onto the expressionless face of a girl. The girl’s face in the frame against the white wallpaper behind her, the soft features, and the slightest hint of a dimple disrupting the symmetry of the shot—she had never seen such a thing of beauty.

Hyejin sat up, and leaned a little closer.

Somewhere behind her, a door opened and closed. The sound of footsteps approached, then the clink of glass on the table beside her. Still, Hyejin did not move.

“Is that Byul’s new film?” A familiar voice said from above.

Hyejin nodded, her eyes never leaving the moving girl on the screen. Suddenly, a mass of curls filled her vision as the newcomer sat down at the edge of her seat, leaning in close to investigate the film in Hyejin’s hands.

“Oi! Unnie, get off!” The young actress growled. “You’re blocking my view!”

Her best friend and up-and-coming director, Kim Yongsun, laughed and stood. Leaning an elbow on Hyejin’s chair, she peered down to admire the over-the-shoulder shot of a girl running.

“I’m still a little shocked that she chose to produce this one. It’s so…different. Oh, but I heard that girl is pretty interesting,” Yongsun said, taking a quick sip of the drink in her hands. She attempted to direct Hyejin's attention to the drink she left on the table, but Hyejin was not listening. 

“Who is she?” Hyejin mumbled. 

“I think her name is Jung Wheein,” Yongsun replied with a shrug. “Byul said they picked a fresh face. Some art school student with the typical celebrity daydreams, I guess. They say she’s a natural, though! What do you think, Hyejin?”

“I think,” Hyejin began slowly, half listening to the whispered confrontation on screen between the girl and a shadowy man with a nefarious smile, “she’s…really good.”

Yongsun glanced at the enraptured expression of her friend. “Pretty cute too, isn’t she?” she nudged.

Hyejin said nothing as she bit the inside of her cheek, her heart only all too aware of how cute the actress was.

Over the next few weeks, Hyejin’s schedule mostly consisted of wrapping up her latest film, attending shows and interviews, and sneaking time in between to watch movies. This year featured a number of stellar productions that truly gave Hyejin and her friends a run for their money. Fierce as the competition was, it wasn’t long before she had forgotten all about Jung Wheein.

Or so she would’ve if she hadn't come across an enigmatic message on Twitter. 

A week before her birthday, Hyejin was spread across her couch, feet up on the armrest, her arm behind her head as her free hand scrolled through her obligatory social media platforms. While some celebrities may find conversing with fans to be quite cumbersome, Hyejin found it quite meditative and uplifting to be able to bring joy to these strangers so easily. Though she seldom dived too deeply into the fan culture, it was always touching to see art and literature dedicated to her and her work. She adored her modest following, and it often amused her to no end to see what sort of posts she was tagged in.

She smiled at a beautiful watercolour painting of her profile, and typed a quick message in thanks for the hardworking artist.

Then she scrolled a little further down. A fan had tagged her with the message: “Hyejinssi will notice you someday!” Curious, she clicked into the thread to see the original post.

_@jwheeinofficial: Vote Ahn Hyejin for Actress of the Year!_

Hyejin quirked a brow, compelled now to read the conversations that followed. A fan joked about her undying love for Hyejin, to which @jwheeinofficial replied, “My love for Hyejin is not a secret. I hope you will continue to support me anyway.” Hyejin gaped at the short message, which were followed by a storm of supportive comments and even one piece of fan art depicting the two actresses together holding hands.

She found herself unable to suppress a smile as she went into @jwheeinofficial’s profile and confirmed that it was indeed the cute, dimpled actress in Byulyi’s new film. Fascinated, she must’ve spent hours going through the tweets of Wheein and her fans, a surprising number of them boldly including her in the discussion. It truly was no secret that Wheein was a big fan of Hyejin, and it seemed to be a widely-accepted and much-beloved quirk that her fans loved to joke about. Wheein herself seemed only too eager to continue the banter as well. Once in a while, she would even contribute little doodles of her own in response to fan-made scenarios and stories.

Yongsun was right: this girl was immensely interesting.

On her birthday, Hyejin received an innumerable number of notifications from every social media platform. Yongsun and Byulyi, who had arrived that morning for a quiet birthday breakfast celebration, ended up spending the evening replying to the most amusing Tweets they found on Hyejin’s behalf. Meanwhile, Hyejin went directly to Wheein’s page. Sure enough, she found what she was looking for:

_@jwheeinofficial: Happy birrthday to @RealQueenAHJ!_

Byulyi leaned over. “Is that Wheein?”

“Yeah,” Hyejin said, calmly handing her phone to the producer’s outstretched hand. “She spelled ‘birthday’ wrong. How cute.” She chuckled, earning a quizzical look from both of her friends.

“I didn’t know she was such a big fan of yours,” Byulyi said incredulously as she scrolled through.

Yongsun hooked her chin over Byulyi’s shoulder. “Wow,” she said, “she must be your number one fan.” At the contact, Byulyi slid her arm around Yongsun’s waist, then handed the phone over to the curious director.

“It’s funny,” Byulyi said with a chuckle, “she’s normally pretty stoic off-camera. She’s fantastically bold and funny when the film is rolling, but she’d always keep to herself when it came to other things. Someone told me she’s a fan of yours, Hyejin, but I didn’t know it was to this extent.”

“Byul-ah, look at this,” Yongsun murmured, nudging the phone toward her. Byulyi craned her neck to appraise the quick doodle of Hyejin holding flowers for a blushing Wheein. Underneath the image, Wheein had laughed and thanked the fan for the drawing.

“She’s really good with her fans, isn’t she?” Hyejin said thoughtfully. “Makes me wonder whether this is a really elaborate PR stunt.”

“Why don’t you reply and see?”

It would be no exaggeration to say that it took the better part of an hour for Hyejin to decide how to reply to the brief message. Between the deliberation, arguments, and internal turmoil, Hyejin finally went with the diplomatic response: “Thank you. I love your work.”

She would spend days, if not weeks, kicking herself for the formal and cold response, but in truth she was not sure how to feel about the eager, young actress. While she was undoubtedly flattered and very much moved by her enthusiasm, she was more than a little intrigued to get to know her better. Beyond everything else, she wanted to see how far Wheein would go with her love. She wanted to know if it was genuine, regardless of what implications that might have of her own feelings. 

Several months later, she received an invitation in the mail. Not only was she invited to attend one of the most prestigious award shows of the year, she was also invited to present the award for Best Screenplay. She quickly scanned the list of nominees as she waited for her coffee to brew that morning, and immediately smiled when she say Wheein’s name on the cream-coloured cardstock. Best New Actress. No one deserved it more, she thought happily. 

She abandoned her coffee to make her calls.

“Hey, I need to present the Best New Actress award. Can you make it happen?”

On the night of the award show, Jung Wheein sat exactly two rows above and five seats to the left of Hyejin. She tapped her fingers on her armrest, resisting the urge to look as the butterflies stirred in her stomach.

When it was her turn, she stood, and looked back to see the young actress sleeping in her seat. She resisted the urge to scoop her up and run out of the stuffy hall with the lightly snoring angel in her arms.

When Wheein met her eyes for the first time on that stage, it was as if time stood still and they were the only two people in the room. Suddenly the trophy in her hand was meaningless, and all she wanted in the world was right in front of her, embodied in a virtual stranger who radiated pure love from her eyes.

When Wheein made her speech, declared her challenge, and allowed Hyejin to claim her lips, it was as if everything was falling into place.

When they returned to their seat and their eyes met once more, Hyejin knew that she had to follow her instincts. Since the moment she laid eyes on her, she had to admit the attraction was magnetic. Wheein had declared her love across cyberspace and now, in front of the world, and it was now her turn to reply.

She took out her phone, and waved it a little for the other woman to see.

Wheein scrambled for her own phone.

_@RealQueenAHJ: @jwheeinofficial – Normally people go on a date before they make out in front of national TV. Let’s do it the other way around ;)_

Hyejin looked up from her phone. Two rows above and five seats away, Wheein had shot up from her seat, hands over her mouth as she tried to contain the excitement that radiated from her red cheeks. Eyes turned to look at her, but she didn’t care. Someone, somewhere, pulled her down, but her eyes never strayed from Hyejin’s.

Finally, Wheein flashed her a wide grin that took her breath away.

_@jwheeinofficial: @RealQueenAHJ – Nothing could make me happier._


	8. Rolling Stone by Passenger

 I.

  
Ahn Hyejin stood on the curb and waved goodbye as her driver pulled away. Finally, she sighed, letting out a breath she must've been holding for the last five weeks. She turned to the building behind her with a tired smile, and extended the handle of her red suitcase.

  
The concierge greeted her with a toothy grin. “Welcome back, Miss Ahn,” she said, bowing deeply.

  
Hyejin nodded, a small, polite smile adorning her face. “Thank you. It’s good to be back.” She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a bar of 3 Musketeers. “A small souvenir,” she said, placing the candy bar into the concierge’s hand. 

  
She crossed the lobby, ascended up the elevator, and covered a yawn with the back of her hand as she stepped into the familiar hallway. Her suitcase rolled behind her quietly against the carpet, her smile growing as she neared the familiar door. The last 24 hours of airport hopping had been gruelling, but here she was. The place that never failed to stray too far from her mind no matter how far she flew. 

  
Home.

  
She rummaged for her keys for a moment before she remembered that they were buried deep inside her suitcase. With a groan, she lifted a knuckle to the door and knocked gently, hoping it wouldn’t wake up too many people.

  
She glanced at her watch as she waited—it was just nearing 10 PM.

  
A quick set of footsteps pattered toward the door, followed by another set of slower steps. The lock clacked, and the door swung open.

  
“Mama!”

  
Hyejin stumbled back when she suddenly caught an armful of her daughter’s fluffy onesie. The yellow lion hood fell backwards as her eager little face looked up at her with a grin, her brown eyes practically glowing as she clung to her shin.

  
Hyejin laughed, and knelt down to embrace the four-year-old, unable to hold back a sigh as she thought about how much she missed this. And wow—she ruffled her hair—her little girl had grown since she last saw her five weeks ago. She quickly swallowed down the prickle of emotion with a smile. “Oh, my darling little monkey, why are you still up?” she said, poking her daughter in the tummy. 

  
The little girl giggled, and swatted at her mother's finger. “I’m a lion, Mama!” she cried, adding a little roar for emphasis.

  
“Sumi-ah, I missed you so much,” Hyejin cried, squeezing her close.

  
Above them, someone cleared their throat. Hyejin glanced up, her heart beating like it was the first time she ever laid eyes on the love of her life all over again. She felt like she was thirteen, awkwardly wanting from opposite corners of the classroom, awkwardly trying not to show how much that dimpled smile affected her. But, against all odds, there she was—still smiling at her fifteen years later. Still affecting her in unspeakable ways. Hyejin looked up, open-mouthed, as she marvelled at how beautiful she was, standing there in the doorway with her arms crossed. Her custard-yellow pajamas were simply too adorable for words.

  
“Wheeinie,” she said with a grin.

  
“We were waiting for you,” Wheein replied with a pout. “But I guess you only care about Sumi.”

  
Hyejin lifted Sumi, who clung to her neck and gave her a sloppy kiss on the cheek, and adjusted her comfortably in her arms. Hyejin grinned and returned the kiss by blowing a raspberry into her chubby cheeks, inciting a happy burst of giggles from her daughter. Wheein, who could not even pretend to be upset as she watched the joyful reunion, stepped forward to pull Hyejin into a soft kiss, smiling when Hyejin practically melted into her touch.

“I missed you both so much."

“Welcome home, Hyejinie.”

“Welcome home, Mama!”

 

II.

  
While Wheein fixed up a light dinner in the kitchen, Hyejin carried Sumi to her room. It had been weeks on the road with her band of rowdy boys: weeks of fast-paced living, weeks of gold and glitter, and weeks of watching her career skyrocket in disbelief—there were some days that she loved it, some days where she thought she must be dreaming still. First she was nobody, then it was Seoul. From Seoul, there came Tokyo, Shanghai, Hong Kong, Taipei, Hanoi. Then London called and opened up a new host of opportunities. They were still new, still growing, but they were getting out there and Hyejin could not deny her daydreams of making it to North America too. Especially not when New York came calling. Her two week tour turned to four, then five. And this, she knew, was only the beginning. 

But there were days—days like this—where she wished she could take in her baby girl’s scent, curl up next to her in bed, and just shut out the world. Sumi, asleep now on her shoulder, whined for just a moment when she set her down onto her bed. Her little fist gripped tightly onto Hyejin’s sleeve. Hyejin kneeled down beside her daughter, and brushed back the soft tufts of hair with her free hand.

  
She couldn’t believe her baby was almost five years old. It seemed like just yesterday when she was driving Wheein back from the hospital with the precious little bundle—it was the happiest day of her life. And now the bundle had a bed of her own. Hyejin could not resist a gentle poke to her daughter’s soft cheeks.

  
Won’t you stop time for me? She thought. Something rumbled in the pit of her stomach, a knot of insecurities that latched at her throat and shook her wet eyes at the same time.

  
“Mama,” Sumi mumbled sleepily.

  
“Yes, I’m here, my little lion,” Hyejin replied, kissing her on the forehead.

  
“Will you be going away again?”

  
She tightened her grip on Hyejin’s sleeve; Hyejin’s heart wrenched in her grip. Speechless, she kissed her daughter's forehead once more.

  
“Don’t go, Mama.”

  
“I’m not going anywhere.”

 

III.

  
Hyejin ate her dinner by the orange light above her kitchen island, filling Wheein in on her adventures in the last five weeks. Wheein, sitting prettily in the barstool beside her, watched and listened intently with a hand under her chin. Occasionally, she would reach out and dab at Hyejin’s lips when she spoke too excitedly while chewing. 

While she spoke now, she watched Wheein, and silently noted the slight lines beginning to form near her eyes. She looked tired, yet here she was, watching her like she was her world. She wondered whether this would last forever, or would her patient angel eventually run out of love for her. Was it too late to throw it all away and come home for good? 

  
“So that’s how we got to play a few songs in Wales. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing," Hyejin said. But Wheein watched her expectantly, bearing into her soul as if waiting for her to confess all of her deepest secrets. "That's pretty much it." Hyejin nervously returned the gaze with a half-hearted smile. 

  
Wheein touched her elbow. “Something is wrong.”

  
Hyejin shook her head, though her grip on her chopsticks was tight. “It’s nothing.”

  
“I’m your wife, Ahn Hyejin,” Wheein said gently, “and before that, I was your best friend.”

  
“You’re still my best friend.”

  
Wheein smiled. “Then you should know that you can’t hide anything from me. You don’t need to be the cool and powerful Hwasa here. Something is bothering you, and I know it's not Wales.”

  
Hyejin shook her head, put down her utensil and slid off her chair to embrace her wife. “I love you, Wheeinie,” she said, voice cracking into the soft cotton of her shirt. She had meant to be reassuring, but Wheein made her feel so safe and so loved—it was as if everything hit her at once. The stress of her career and family—all the things she was doing, all the things she was missing out on—the push and pull of her desires and obligations and—she took a breath, clutching Wheein’s shirt like a lifeline.

  
She held on.

  
She held on, but she was slipping. And when Wheein wrapped her arms around her, she knew her charade was up. “I love you, Hyejinie,” Wheein whispered, drawing slow, soothing circles on her back with a palm. “It’s okay to cry. I’m right here to catch you—I’ll always be right here waiting for you.”

  
And so she cried. She cried for her baby girl—who missed her every day while she was away, who she loved with all her soul, yet could never be the mother she deserved. She cried for her wife—who was patient and kind, who was as perfect as she was imperfect. She cried for herself—who was cursed with a rolling stone inside of her.

  
Wheein kissed the salt-licked trails across Hyejin’s cheeks, and a wave of relief washed over her. “I’m here,” she cooed, holding her close. “I’m here. You’re here. We’re going to be okay.”

 

IV.

  
The next morning Hyejin woke up tangled in warm blankets, her arms wrapped around her wife. Dawn had barely broken through, but she found herself suddenly awake. Secretly, she was glad that she could enjoy this quiet moment. She felt like she and Wheein were the only people on earth—like she was invincible in the silent, still morning glow. Last night’s tears suddenly seemed so far away, so out of place in paradise. She planted a kiss on the curve of Wheein’s golden shoulder, then sighed as she pulled her closer.

  
“Mm, morning, Hyejinie,” Wheein mumbled, snuggling closer into her front.

  
“Morning,” Hyejin responded hoarsely, playfully nipping at Wheein’s earlobe. “We don’t have to wake up yet, do we?”

  
“What time is it?”

  
Wheein reached out for her phone, but Hyejin caught her hand, interlaced their fingers, and held them close to her body. “Let’s not think about it,” she mumbled into the back of her neck. “We can stay here forever.”

  
Wheein shuffled around to face the other woman, regarding her with a disapproving look. “Hyejin-ah…Sumi will starve.”

  
Hyejin chuckled, and kissed the frowning lips. “Sumi isn’t awake yet. She’ll be okay. She’s a big girl now.”

  
“She is,” Wheein replied, allowing the smile to spread across her lips, “but she still needs her mothers.”

  
Hyejin sighed deeply. “I’m scared that…I’m going to miss everything,” she confessed.

  
“I told you,” Wheein said, “I’ll be waiting. So will Sumi.”

“But—”

Wheein pressed a finger to Hyejin’s lips, still wearing the kind of smile that made Hyejin’s heart melt unconditionally. Her voice was loving, but firm: “Hyejin-ah, I know what I signed up for when I married you. You promised me you’d chase your dreams no matter what, and I know how much you love us, Hyejin. You practically shout it at the top of your lungs whenever they interview you,” Wheein chuckled. “I still remember that time when someone asked you about your upcoming performance, and you launched into a whole speech about how you wrote all the songs about us and how much you loved us—it wasn’t even related to the question, but it was so cute that nobody had the heart to stop you.”

  
“Whee—”

  
“Let me finish.”

  
Hyejin nodded.

  
“Yongsun unnie and Byulyi unnie take good care of us, so you don’t need to worry. Sure, sometimes I wish you’d come to my art shows, but I can’t come to all your shows either,” Wheein shrugged, “so we’re even.”

  
“It’s not—”

  
“I’m not done yet.” Hyejin pressed her lips together immediately. Wheein giggled, and reached out to cup her wife’s cheek. She brushed the pad of her thumb across her cheekbone, and sighed. “You can’t stay in one place when the world needs to hear you, my love. I don’t know much about physics, but I do know that what goes up must come down. And Sumi and I will be right here when you decide to come back down. So until then, you’re going to fly as high as possible.”

  
Wheein’s thumb caught a tear, and brushed it away. Softly, she kissed the spot where the drop had lingered.

  
Then, as if on cue, a light flurry of footsteps hurried down the hall. Their bedroom door squeaked open, and their darling daughter, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, stumbled through, the hood of her lion onesie fallen back to reveal her messy, brown, bedhead.

  
“Mamas?” she said, waddling closer to the bed.

  
“Good morning, sweetie,” Wheein said, immediately sitting up. “Are you okay? Why are you up so early? Did you have a bad dream?”  
Sumi shook her head.

  
Hyejin turned to give her daughter a toothy grin. “Do you wanna come up and sleep with your mamas?”

  
Sumi nodded vigorously.

  
“Come here, little lion,” Hyejin said, patting the spot beside her.

  
With some assistance, Sumi clambered onto the bed with a happy grin. She threw herself across Hyejin’s stomach, inciting a tickle war that sent her scrambling toward Wheein with a high-pitched laugh. Wheein wrapped one arm around her daughter, and pretended to ward off Hyejin’s wiggling fingers, but—just as Sumi had let her guard down as she giggled at her mothers’ antics—switched gears and joined Hyejin in attacking Sumi’s sides. Sumi screeched, laughing until tears squeezed out the corner of her eyes as she tried to avoid her mothers’ tickles.

  
Eventually, the three of them—with Sumi nestled comfortably between her two mothers—laid back, chests heaving, light laughter still bubbling. Hyejin reached across Sumi to hold Wheein's hand. With one last glance at the identical smiles on her wife and daughter's face, Hyejin began to drift off to sleep alongside the two loves of her life. 

Tomorrow will come, and the day after that. Eventually, she knew that she would have to leave again.

For now, Hyejin was home, and there was no better feeling in the world.


	9. Rolling Stone Pt. 2

 

I.

 

“Hwasa, you’re back up in five!”

 

A flurry of tangled arms reached out to fluff her hair, fix her makeup, and throw all manner of textured cloth at her. Hyejin closed her eyes to allow the sensation to wash over her. The buzz of voices and the air of panic faded to white noise as she thought about the last time she’d seen her little family.

 

She thought about the way Sumi had screamed when she revealed her birthday present, a bright red electric Mini Cooper—a two-seater for both her daughter and her wife. They’d have plenty of room to drive it round their new suite, she thought, smiling at the image she knew she’d be missing out on.

 

It was her first world tour, so to speak—four months, 6 countries, and 8 cities—and she barely had time to breathe between the dimly lit bars and open fields with way too many bodies per square kilometre. Hwasa and her band had made it to medium-sized sold-out venues, large-scale festivals, and there were even talks of stadium shows starting in Tel Aviv.

 

But after two years in and out of home, her heart began to ache for the simple pleasures of life. She missed figuring out Sumi’s homework alongside her, pretending to help when she was really stealing snacks. She missed Wheein hugging her back when she made dinner, refusing to move no matter how many times she told her it was dangerous. She missed being able to surprise her little girl at her dance recitals, and showing up at Wheein’s shows with the biggest bouquet of flowers in hand.

 

These last four months had been full of gifts in the mail and money in envelopes—the kind of love she never wanted to replace her own. And now, halfway through her third month of touring, she found herself in Auckland, ushered onto the stage by her friends, alone in a crowd of strangers shouting her name.

 

God she loved her fans, she really did. She’d met so many, been touched by so many—it was an honour, she knew, it really was. And the adrenaline of each performance was no less addictive than when she first began. The stage, and the lights, and the passionate declaration of her love through song—songs only she and her loves truly understood.

 

But Hyejin was exhausted. It was the road, and the drama, and the occasional nastiness that came with show biz politics. It was never the art. The struggle had always been trying to figure out whether the art was worth everything else.

 

Hyejin ran off stage, cheers fading out as she disappeared behind the curtain. A roadie offered a freshly cracked open bottle of water and offered it to her with an admiring gleam in his eyes. But Hyejin’s mind was elsewhere—she drank deeply, as if it could cleanse her of all of this guilt. She closed her eyes, listened to the roar of “encore” echoing off the vibrating, beer-soaked floors.

 

One more, she decided then. Just one more.

 

Everyone was livid when she took the first plane out to Seoul the next morning. Confused fans demanded their money back for the remaining cancelled shows. Her team called and called to no avail. First they pleaded, then begged, then demanded. After all of that, they called their PR team to clean up the mess.

 

Hyejin touched down in Seoul with reporters at her tail. She bit the bullet then, with the promise of home awaiting her. It was the predictable set of questions, and she was in no mood to lie.

 

Why did you cancel your shows?

 

“My team has been wonderful,” she said diplomatically, “the fans are phenomenal. I’d simply missed my family too much.”

 

How do you think this might affect your career?

 

“I’ve chased my dream long enough. As much as I love music, I love my family too. If this is the end, then so be it. I will always have music, for as long as I’m alive, but my daughter is young and my wife is tired—I can’t be selfish anymore. Not like this.”

 

What do you have to say to your fans? Do you feel that you’ve disappointed them?

 

“Of course! Disappointing my fans is my biggest regret. I know you have all worked hard for those tickets, and I know how selfish this is, but I have to do this.” Her eyes glistened. She cleared her throat. “I hope you will forgive my selfish decision one day.”

 

The reporters, with their drawn brows and curled lips, didn’t seem to quite know what to make of the story. Hyejin, knowing she wasn’t big enough to make front page news, simply shrugged and excused herself as she shuffled into a nearby taxi. Who cares what they think? Who cares what anyone thought. She would deal with it all tomorrow.

 

Tomorrow will come eventually, and the day after that.

 

But today, she smiled at the thought. She was going home.

  
  


II.

 

She fidgeted with her red suitcase anxiously as she watched the ascending numbers above the elevator door. Suddenly a thought struck her—how were they going to pay for the new suite now? The move was in two months—will she have enough time?

 

The panic rose inside, draining the colour from her cheeks as she turned down the familiar hallway. She stared, frozen, at the familiar door. What if she made the wrong decision? What if she’d messed it all up. Terror gripped at her insides as the what ifs began to form a precarious tower in her mind.

 

“Sweetie, did you hear something?” Came Wheein’s voice from behind the door. Hyejin’s heart raced loudly in her ear.

 

“Is it a mouse?” A small voice replied, followed by muted shuffling near the doorway. Hyejin did not dare move.

 

“Do you think…”

 

“Mommy, you’re silly. Mama is in New Zealand. I looked it up today! I’ll show you! New Zealand has sooooo many fluffy sheep!” Excited chatter and hurried footsteps faded away from the door.

 

“Wait.”

 

Hyejin widened her eyes and wondered if she had spoken her thought out loud. But it was Wheein, standing right behind the door now, her voice as clear in her mind as if she was right beside her.

 

“Mommy?”

 

“I think...she’s here.”

 

The lock slid, and the door inched open. A single eye in the shadows caught Hyejin’s.

 

“Hey,” Hyejin said with an instant grin. For just this moment, all of her worries dissipated,

 

The door flew open with a bang. A loud, sharp, and excited screech filled Hyejin’s ear as she released both hands from her coat pockets to embrace her overeager wife. Wheein leapt into Hyejin’s arms, nearly knocking her over.

 

“I’m home,” Hyejin whispered, squeezing the smooth material of Wheein’s white sleepshirt. She held the other woman closer, and kissed the side of her jaw quickly before burying her nose into her shoulder. She did not realize how much she missed her wife’s scent until now.

 

“Welcome home, Hyejinnie,” Wheein murmured into Hyejin’s hair.

 

“Mama?” Hyejin glanced up to the doorway, where her little girl stood wearing a bewildered deer-in-the-headlights expression. In one hand, she held a small tablet. In the other, her stuffed lion’s arm touched the floor. Her hair was the same wild, curly mess as ever, but her pink pajamas matched her mother’s, and Hyejin could’ve melted right there.

 

Instead, she tried to be calm as she pulled away from her wife’s embrace. “My little lion,” she said smiling.

 

“You’re really here!” Sumi cried. She dropped the lion and tablet onto the floor—both mothers wincing automatically—and rushed forward to hug her mother’s legs. “I missed you sooooo so so so so much!”

 

“I missed you too, darling. You’ve gotten taller again, haven’t you?” Hyejin said, ruffling her hair. “And your hair is so long now.”

 

“I’m trying to grow it so it’s like the hair you had in your music video! The one with all the girls dancing in the fountain,” Sumi declared proudly. “You were so pretty, Mama! Oh! But you’re always pretty. You too, Mommy. I have the prettiest moms in the whole world!”  

 

Hyejin threw her head back and laughed. “My little girl is such a charmer now.”

 

Wheein chuckled. “She gets it from you, I swear.”

  
  


III.

 

After a quick change into a matching set of blue pajamas, Hyejin carried Sumi to the dining table and plopped her down in front of a bowl of baby carrots. Hyejin took her seat beside her, but not before stealing a carrot from the bowl. “Mama! That’s my midnight snack!”

 

“Sweetie, it’s only 10 PM. Here, have some rice.”

 

The little girl huffed, but took her mother’s proffered rice without further complaint.

 

Sumi insisted on staying up while Hyejin ate dinner this time, as she begged to hear all about her mother’s tour. “Did you really meet Rihanna?” she whispered loudly, leaning closer with both elbows on the table.

 

“Yeah,” Hyejin said with a conspiratorial grin. She leaned closer as well, earning a raised brow from her wife beside her. “Don’t tell Mommy, but she was reaaaally pretty.”

 

Wheein, from her seat beside her, punched her wife lightly in the arm. “Do you want to die, Ahn Hyejin?”

 

Hyejin raised her arms in mock surrender. “I didn’t say anything! Ask Sumi!”

 

Sumi also raised both arms up. “Mama said Rihanna is pretty—it’s not my fault!”

 

Hyejin gaped at her daughter, who was doubling over with laughter. “Sumi-ah...I can’t believe you would betray me like that!” She placed a hand on her heart, and dramatically cried out in poorly imitated pain.

 

“Wheein-ah, please take me back. Nobody loves me anymore. My only daughter—oh, the betrayal!” Hyejin reached over and wrapped both arms around Wheein’s waist. Wheein squealed and laughed as she made a half-hearted attempt to push her away.

 

“Wheein-ah, just one kiss!” Hyejin cried.

 

“Aigo,” Wheein groaned, though the smile never left her lips. “You’re so annoying sometimes.”

 

“That’s why you love me.”

 

Wheein rolled her eyes. It took all of a second for her to break her resolve and plant a kiss on her wife’s lips.”

 

“Ew,” Sumi’s little voice protested. The two women looked over to see their daughter hide behind her own fingers. “Are you done yet? Kissing is gross.”

 

“Oh?” Hyejin and Wheein shared a mischievous smile. “Looks like somebody is going to need a lot of kisses to see how great they are!”

 

Sumi screeched, hopped off her chair, and made a mad dash to her bedroom, closely followed by her two doting mothers with outstretched arms, and way too much love to share. She ran around her bed, but was quickly caught and picked up in a tight embrace by her Mama’s protective arms. Her Mommy showered her kisses all over the little girl’s head, sending her in a fit of giggles that led to many others as her mothers tickled her sides.

 

Later, while the laughter winded down, and Sumi laid on her bed, sleepy and exhausted, Hyejin swept her daughter’s hair across her forehead and tucked a long strand behind her ear. Wheein snuggled against Sumi, sandwiching their daughter between them as she held up her phone.

 

“Let’s take a picture to commemorate,” she said happily.

 

“Wheein-ah...we’re all in pajamas, and I don’t even have makeup on. It’s not going to be cute.”

 

“C’mon Mama,” mumbled Sumi with a poorly suppressed yawn, “just a picture. Mommy always says that we’re cute no matter what.”

 

“Yeah, Hyejinie, we’re so cute.”

 

Hyejin chuckled, her eyes glittering with unrestrained affection. How could she deny her two angels anything?

 

“Okay.”

 

In that moment, she knew she had made the right decision in coming home.

 

Even if the world still did not agree with her yet.

  
  


IV.

 

“I saw the news.”

 

Hyejin looked up from her mug of tea, relieved somehow that she didn’t have to be the first to speak. Wheein, with her head on her shoulder, kept her eyes trained on the blank television screen as she mulled over the words she needed to say—the words Hyejin needed to hear. She placed a hand on her wife’s stomach and settled on what she knew to be the inevitable: “It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

 

Hyejin hummed. “I know. The fans will probably riot.” She nuzzled her cheek on Wheein’s head. “But I don’t regret it one bit. If I have to start over, then I’ll start over.”

 

Wheein sighed. “But you’ve worked so hard.”

 

“I don’t care. I guess I’m a bit worried about money, but I don’t know. Maybe I can be a teacher or something. Teach music. I don’t know. I don’t know who I am without music, but at the same time...I don’t know who I am without you and Sumi either.” Hyejin snuggled closer. “You’re the greatest loves of my life,” she whispered.

 

“You’re Ahn Hyejin,” Wheein replied, drawing circles on the back of Hyejin’s hand with the pad of her thumb. “You’re a wonderful wife and mother, a talented musician, and you’re the most beautiful soul I’ve ever seen. It’s okay to be uncertain sometimes, Hyejinie—I’ll always be here to remind you.”

 

Hyejin turned and kissed the corner of her lips. “I’m so, so, so lucky,” she said, more to herself than anyone else.

 

A moment of comfortable silence passed when Wheein suddenly bolted upright, spilling a bit of thankfully lukewarm tea onto Hyejin’s lap. “Wheein-ah!” Hyejin cried, “What are you doing!”

 

“Sorry, sorry,” Wheein said, handing over the box of tissues on the coffee table. “I just had a great idea.”

 

Hyejin paused, an eyebrow raised as she pulled a tissue out of the box. “That doesn’t sound good.”

 

But Wheein ignored her. “You should post that picture of us.”

 

“Wheein-ah…the PR team will freak out. They think it’s scandalous enough that I talk about you and Sumi so much…”

 

Wheein grabbed her phone from the coffee table and pulled up the picture they had taken only thirty minutes ago. The three of them laid in matching pajamas, Sumi’s sleepy smile at the centre of the picture while her two mothers kissed her on either cheek. “This is not for your company. It’s for your fans. And if they really love you, they’d understand when they see this.”

 

“But I...don’t want them to see this as an excuse. I love you and Sumi more than my heart can bear sometimes, but not everyone will see it that way. I just...I can’t go back to touring.”

 

“Hyejin, look at me,” Wheein dropped her phone into her lap and grabbed onto Hyejin’s arm with both hands. “Do you like performing?”

 

Hyejin hesitated. “Well, not as much as—”

 

“Do you like performing?”

 

She looked down at her hands. “Yeah. Sometimes. But...I’m tired now, Wheeinie. I just want to stay here. I don’t want to go anywhere without you anymore. Every time I go to a new place, I just wish you were with me, and I think about how I could take you there on vacation someday. And I don’t want to keep waiting for that someday.”

 

“You can stay in Seoul,” Wheein said softly. She leaned into her arm and collapsed down against Hyejin to resume her earlier position. “You can just perform here. Let your fans come to you.”

 

“That’s not—”

 

“Post that picture. For them, and for yourself,” Wheein said. She angled up and placed a quick kiss on Hyejin’s cheek. “You’ll see.”

 

“Okay.”

 

V.

 

Hyejin woke up to 52 missed calls and an unending number of notifications. She ignored the 33 calls from her manager and the 19 from concerned friends and families, then muted KaTalk before throwing her phone back on her bedside drawer.

 

Against her side, Wheein shifted, her breath warm against her bare skin. “Something wrong?” She mumbled, her voice still heavy from sleep.

 

“Mmm, nothing out of the ordinary.”

 

Wheein yawned, then threw an arm around Hyejin’s waist. “Check on the photo,” she said into her shoulder.

 

“Ugh,” Hyejin grumbled, turning to Wheein to cuddle her instead, “I want the Internet to go away for a long, long time.”

 

Wheein laughed, and nudged her nose with her own. “Check on the photo, you little drama queen.”

 

“But—”

 

“Ahn. Hye. Jin.”

 

With a groan, Hyejin slowly stretched an arm toward the end table and picked up her phone again. New notifications were still popping up—she squeezed her fingers against her eyes and pressed the cool object into Wheein’s warm hands. Without a word, Wheein began to scroll through.

 

“Hyejin-ah…”

 

“Oh god, I don’t want to know.”

 

“Manager-unnie is really mad.”

 

Hyejin scoffed. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

 

“Three thousand people liked your photo.”

 

Hyejin shot up into a sitting position, impervious to the cool air against her chest. “WHAT?”

 

“Wanna hear what else?” Wheein continued with a smirk.

 

“What?”

 

“Read the comments.”

 

Her heart hammered in her chest as she began scrolling through her comments section. As she had predicted, some people did not appreciate the cancellation of her concert. Some were mixed in expressing their disappointment. It was an unusual situation, after all. But the majority of her fans, confused as they were, expressed overwhelming love for both her and her family.

 

“Look at this, Hyejinie,” Wheein said, pointing. “These tags are so cute.”

 

“Hashtag royal family,” Hyejin read out loud. “Hashtag stand with the queen.”

 

“I told you your real fans will always love you.”

 

“I don’t...I don’t believe this.”

 

Wheein plucked the phone out of her hand and threw it aside. “I think a celebration is in order,” she said, running a finger along her wife’s collarbone, “don’t you think?” ‍

 

Hyejin reached around and wrapped her fingers in Wheein’s hair. A glance and a whisper of love passed briefly between them before Hyejin pulled her down and met her lips in a slow, passionate kiss. Wheein rolled on top of her, breathless as her hands clutched Hyejin’s face, drinking her in with all of her being.

 

“God I love you so much,” Hyejin mumbled against her lips.

 

Wheein smiled that slow, sly, sexy smile she could never get enough of. “Show me.”

 

Hands travelled along hot skin, Hyejin’s heart newly bursting out of her chest as she took in Wheein’s scent. But then—

 

“Mamas!” Came a familiar little voice, followed by a high-pitched shriek and the patter of feet running across the hardwood.

 

“Oh shit,” Hyejin mumbled, craning over Wheein’s shoulder to glance at the open bedroom door. Her head hit her pillow with a heavy sigh. “We traumatized our kid.”

 

Wheein laughed, and untangled herself from Hyejin’s body. “Guess we’ll have to get up now and do some parenting together.”

 

“As scary as that sounds, hearing you say that makes me really happy.” Hyejin said, running a hand through her hair as she stood. She stared at her feet, suddenly shy. “Thank you for waiting for me, my love.”

 

“You’re worth waiting for.”

 

They grinned at each other from opposite sides of the bed. Though their hair was dishevelled and their pajamas were wrinkled, they never felt more beautiful under their lover’s gaze.

 

Wheein cracked a grin. “I’m so lucky to have you, Hyejinie.”

 

“I’m the lucky one.”

 

“Oh stop, or we’ll be here all morning,” Wheein said. Though her smile only grew when Hyejin made her way around the bed and reached for her hand.

 

“Let’s go do some parenting, Wheeinie,” she said brightly. “Together.”

 

“Okay. But maybe we should put some clothes on first.”

 

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping to write a sequel to this soon. Until then, please do check this work out on AFF. The Songbook doesn't translate very well onto Ao3 as I don't have the flexibility of editing the text. This collection was written for AFF, after all. 
> 
> Link: https://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/1260021/


	10. One Day I'll Fly Away by Vaults

 

The princess sighs at the windowsill  
The birds sing outside in lifelong pairs  
It’s sweet, she thinks, if it didn’t wrench her heart  
She lays her head on the pillow and watches  
Two larks fly by  
She shuts her eyes and goes back to dreaming  
Of a prince, a knight—her other half  
She wills the Sandman to be kind  
To be creative and romantic  
To bestow her partner with starlit eyes  
And so she dreams and dreams  
And dreads the waking dawn

The knight sighs from the bottom of the tower  
She catches a glimpse and loses the spar  
Her captain scolds her  
The knight waits for the princess and dreams  
She dreams of a world for two  
Just her and the princess holding hands  
Free to love  
Free to be  
She dreads waking up from blissful daydream  
Her captain slaps her across the head

The princess watches from her pedestal  
The knights practicing down below  
Her father speaks to her idly  
He notices she is unhappy but duty lets them pretend  
Everything is alright  
People are watching after all  
But he doesn’t miss the way she lights up  
Ever so slightly at the sight of an eager knight  
He sighs and lets them be  
It wasn’t ideal but it could be worse  
Maybe it’ll even pass

Just two days past the knight had caught the princess’s eye  
On a bright afternoon, in a meadow among the trees  
The knight had run to her haven, screamed at the top of her lungs  
She made her mistakes, foolishly  
Though nothing was new  
Perhaps she wasn't meant for this  
The cuts and aches  
The battered heart   
Her proof  
  
If only the captain were not so unforgiving  
If only she were not so unforgiving  
If only weight on her shoulders were not so unforgiving  
She ran to the meadow and laid down to sleep  
To forget the bruises on her body  
And the sound of shattered hopes in her ear  
  
But moments later, a rustle  
The knight bolted up  
Looming above her was a familiar shape  
A white-maned pony  
With a fawn-coloured coat  
The pony nudged her  
She laughed and embraced the speckled muzzle  
Then from behind emerged the one  
Who haunts her dreams  
The princess greeted her shyly  
The knight stumbled into a kneel  
They found each other in their mirrored tales  
And unknowingly chanced the comfort of love’s embrace

Since then, they return every three days  
Blissfully unaware  
Of their dream coming to an end

The war comes  
Destruction beneath its heavy boots  
The knight joins her friends on the battlefield  
The princess wants to fly away  
Back to the meadow with her knight  
Backwards to yesterday  
Forwards to tomorrow  
She sits useless on her pedestal  
And waits for her wings to grow

The war roars louder when they take a shot at the king’s heart  
It hits his chest, a narrow miss  
The kingdom waits for him to open his eyes  
And for once, the princess steps out of her golden braces  
And braces for the world ahead

The princess bravely flies  
Like a dove she sings  
For peace  
For her people  
For her knight

Finally the war is done  
The bloodied battlefields silently welcome  
The comfort of the Valkyrie’s embrace  
Battered and bruised, the living goes home  
Mourning but grateful, guilty, for a chance to live again

The king awakes  
The princess returns home  
She has seen too much  
But there is no time to mourn  
She finds the strength to help her kingdom recover  
To be a leader  
To shed the facade  
Of the fragile doll she was told to be

The knight comes home broken  
Her captain’s scarf clutched in her red hands  
She fought with everything she had under the ungrateful sky  
But she made her mistakes  
The biggest being alive  
While her captain lay buried  
The knight holds the scarf to her chest  
And vows to be stronger  
For her captain  
For her people  
For her princess

The knight sees the princess again  
Practically a queen now, so greatly revered  
She politely bows  
Silently wishes  
To be worthy enough to share in her quiet strength  
The princess nods back  
Duty awaits

Two years fly by while the princess rules alongside the king  
The king is tired—perhaps it’s time

The knight trains tirelessly to be the strongest in all the land  
She earns the rewards and accolades and the reverence  
Gains the awe of the land as its protector  
None of which she ever wanted

They see each other once in a while  
A smile and a nod is all they can afford  
While at night they dream and pray  
For the dreaming to never end

In another year, the princess becomes queen  
Rumour spreads across the lands that she is searching for her king  
Suitors start to line up  
Handsome princes bearing extravagance and promise  
Of the gold chains she loathed so much  
  
The old king looks on amused  
As he sips his tea  
Wondering what became of that young knight  
All those years ago

The new queen bites her lip  
As she considers the obligations to her country  
Against the obligations to her heart

The knight sighs as she passes through the palace halls  
Wondering if somewhere somehow, within these walls  
There still lives the princess who captured her heart

And both, as they wander aimlessly on a rainy afternoon  
Wonder if it were love that they once shared  
And if she still feels the same

They meet again without prying eyes of the quiet hall  
The queen stands on the bottom step and greets her knight shyly  
The knight stumbles into a kneel and looks up to see  
Bright eyes, tinged with affection  
Tinged with wariness  
They’re older now  
They’ve both seen too much  
They’ve both seen the way fickle time plays its cards

I love you

They smile at the melody of their voices in unison  
They smile in understanding of the unspoken history behind those three words  
And as the princess takes the knight’s hand  
They smile as their dreams wake into reality

End


	11. Strangers Talking Body by Halsey x Tove Lo

 

Kim Yongsun was 28 years old. Unlike many of her peers, she took a fast track through the corporate ladder with cunning, ambition, and—most of all—sacrifice. Charming as she was, she quickly lost contact with family and friends when she struck out on her own all those years ago. She had never been much good at meeting people outside of a professional capacity anyway, which—other than the time she got tangled into something almost romantic after a series of drunken “one-night-stands”—led to a rather lonely existence for Kim Yongsun.

 

On this particular night, Kim Yongsun decided to take care of herself for a change. After all, one can hardly work under such serious pressure when one was sexually frustrated all the time. If humans didn’t invite so much trouble, she might have considered an alternative to this, but here she was: standing outside of a sex shop.

 

From the outside, it looked clean enough. It didn’t have the expected neon signs and suspicious people walking in and out. In fact, it didn’t have much signage at all. Not entirely trusting the plaque on the door reading “open”, she tried to peek through the white curtains to see if anyone was inside. When all she saw where a number of dildoes on the wall, she took a breath and tried the door.

 

Well, it certainly was clean enough. The red and white decor was surprisingly inviting despite all the explicit images on every product packaging. Since no one was around, it was an immediate weight off her shoulder as she browsed.

 

There were so many things she had never seen before, much less knew how to use. There was only one person she could think of who knew about these things, but, sadly, that person was no longer in her life. But how hard could it be, she wondered. If she could get a managerial position at 28, she could surely figure out a couple of gadgets and contraptions.

 

Idly, she picked up a box from the shelf. “A magic wand?” She mumbled. It didn’t look like any wand she’d ever seen before. And she read plenty of Harry Potter in her younger days.

 

“Hello, can I help you?”

 

Yongsun spun around to see a mountain of boxes above a pair of long legs that demanded her appraisal. It was only when the boxes teetered that she sprang into action just in time to catch a small, square box that fell from the top. “Oh crap,” she heard, as two other boxes followed suit. One dove into Yongsun’s arm while the other hit the floor with a thud.

 

“Ah, don’t worry about that one,” the shopkeeper said. “Thanks for helping me out, Miss—”

 

Yongsun glanced up when the shopkeeper suddenly stopped, and gasped. “It’s you,” Yongsun whispered. It’d been almost three years, but she would recognize her shy grin and wrinkled nose anywhere—she’d seen it countless times in bed, when they’d danced around that grey line between lovers and strangers. But despite everything they had gone through together, they never got each other’s names.

 

“Yeah,” the shopkeeper said, adjusting the boxes in her arms uncomfortably.

 

“W-what are you doing here?”

 

“I work here,” she replied with a raised brow. “Actually, I’m the owner.”

 

Yongsun gasped, but quickly tried to swallow her surprise. Instead she shifted her weight, looked down, said nothing. She could feel the other woman’s expectant gaze in the increasingly awkward silence, then heard a familiar sigh.

 

“It’s...been a while. How are you, yeba?” Yongsun looked up and caught a grin—the same cute, lopsided smile Yongsun remembered so well.

 

“I’m...good,” she said carefully, still treading on disbelief. “Same as ever.”

 

“Same as ever, eh?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

The shopkeeper put down her tower of boxes on the counter, and smirked. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here then.”

 

Yongsun blushed, and awkwardly shuffled over to add her two boxes to the pile. After all this time, she never thought this nameless woman would continue to affect her. It was the main reason she chose to disappear quietly from her life—the emotions and the uncertainty was simply too high a price to pay for mind-blowing sex and casual companionship. It made a lot of sense when your life’s plan included marriage at 40, and only after becoming CEO.

 

And there certainly were times when Yongsun missed the easy transaction between strangers. Ultimately, she knew it would only be a distraction, but, if that were the case, why the hell did she want this distraction so badly right now?

 

“Sorry, that was rude, wasn’t it?” The shopkeeper sighed. Yongsun blinked. What did she say? “Everyone has their own reasons for coming in here,” she continued. “And as much as I wish we could live in a sexually free society where we don’t have to hide our love and desires, I know it can be uncomfortable for people coming in for the first time.” Yongsun nodded slowly, as if this sex shop was the only reason she was uncomfortable. “So is there anything in particular that you’re looking for?”

 

Yongsun opened her mouth, but instead of speaking like a socially adept young woman on the verge of becoming senior manager, she bolted out the door like the socially awkward mess she always was around beautiful women. Especially this one.

 

But the very next evening, she found herself in front of those curtained windows once more. It was inevitable, she convinced herself, when passing this store meant a shorter route home from work, of course. Even if parking was rather atrocious in this district. It was simply inevitable, she continued to convince herself.

 

As she contemplated going in and buying the first thing that caught her eye with neither conversation or eye contact, the shopkeeper stepped out.

 

“Oh! Hello again,” she said, looking ridiculously handsome in her black turtleneck and dashing smile. “Do you want to come in?”

 

Yongsun said nothing.

 

“Or,” the woman said slowly, “I was just about to step out for a quick bite to eat. Do you want to join me? I bet you haven’t eaten yet, yeba.”

 

That was when, of course, Yongsun’s stomach decided to remind her that she had indeed been neglecting one appetite for another.

 

And so Yongsun found herself in an udon bar, staring down at her bowl and avoiding the intense gaze of the other woman. A future CEO and the owner of a sex shop must seem strange together, she—and no one else—thought.

 

“You know,” the shopkeeper said thoughtfully, “We never did introduce ourselves formally. I still don’t know your name.”

 

“No,” Yongsun said quietly.

 

A low chuckle rumbled from across the table. “Against all odds, we’ve found each other again. Would you consider that destiny?”

 

Yongsun looked up from her murky broth. “I guess?”

 

“So given this fortunate occasion, would you consider us friends? Maybe a little more than strangers despite not knowing each other’s names?” The other woman’s smile was carefully guarded, yet playful to accompany the challenge in her voice.

 

Yongsun sighed, replaced her chopsticks across the bowl and leaned back with arms crossed. “You make it sound like it’s a secret. You just never asked.”

 

The shopkeeper’s brows shot up. “Neither did you. I’d always thought it was an unspoken agreement”—she pushed her bowl aside and leaned in as close as she could—“just in case screaming my name would get too real for you,” she added in a whisper.

 

Yongsun flushed crimson and hurriedly glanced around to see if anyone in the busy establishment had heard. Since it would likely be counterproductive to speak in her shameful anger, she opt for an icy glare, and a secret dilemma between punching or kissing the triumphant smirk off her face.

 

“Relax, yeba,” the woman said. “I’m only half joking.”

 

They finished the meal and returned to the store in only a moderately uncomfortable level of silence. After all, they never used to talk so much back when they were sleeping together. Yongsun hardly knew what to say now after all this time.

 

Perhaps she was right: it was easy for things to get too real. To open up and expose her vulnerabilities like a real relationship. No, it was best not to speak.

 

Fortunately, the shopkeeper went straight to business. She recommended several products at varying levels of stimulation and ease of use, and —though Yongsun’s ears burned—the transaction was quick and painless.

 

In fact, Yongsun had inevitably over-analyzed the complexity of this relationship.

 

Or perhaps that would have been the case had she not—in some lapse of reason between nervously clutching her wallet and admiring the subtle curves of the other woman’s body—leaned over the counter and kissed the other woman squarely on the lips.

 

Her instinct pulled her away, horrified, but the shopkeeper’s flushed cheeks and wide-eyed expression kept her rooted, kept her chewing her bottom lip in anticipation.

 

“Yeba, I—”

 

“It’s Yongsun,” She said quickly, shyly tucking her hair behind her ear. “My name is Kim Yongsun.”

 

“Yongsunssi,” the shopkeeper murmured. The syllables if her own name on the shopkeeper’s tongue sent a shiver down Yongsun’s spine. “I...I don’t know why you did that,” Yongsun stepped closer around the counter; the other woman stepped back, “but as much as I liked it...I...we can’t.”

 

Yongsun frowned. “Why not?”

 

“Because,” she looked down at her shoes, “I know what this...what I...meant to you. And I can’t do that anymore. Maybe when I was younger and still believed I was invincible, but I...I was devastated when you left. So I...I can’t...I—”

 

“Byulyi,” Yongsun said quietly. The shopkeeper looked up, surprise evident in her features. “I’ve known your name for a very long time...but you were right. Saying it made it all too real. I couldn’t tell you how many times I wanted to, but if I did...you wouldn’t be a stranger anymore. And I...I’d convinced myself that saying it out loud was different than saying it in my heart. I guess I thought that if I said your name out loud, you’d know how I really felt about you.”

 

Byulyi furrowed her brows. “So you chose to run away. Why did you kiss me then?”

 

“I don’t expect you to understand something I barely understand myself,” Yongsun replied with a nervous chuckle. “Seeing you always seems to have way of...messing with my senses. I didn’t expect to still feel...all these feelings...after all this time.”

 

Her quiet confession filled the air with expectant butterflies. She scuffed the toe of her shoe on the floor and waited for Byulyi’s move. The last time her heart had raced so quickly was when she had stood in Byulyi’s bedroom pulling on her clothes, making—yet fearing—the decision to never see her again.

 

But Byulyi just rubbed the back of her neck. “I don’t know what to say.”

 

“Ah.” Yongsun smiled politely, hoping her smile wouldn’t come off as pathetic as she felt. “It’s okay. I’ll...just go. Thanks for everything.”

 

She ducked her head and turned to pick up her bags, only to be intercepted by a hand on her own.

 

“Wait,” Byulyi said. Yongsun looked down at their clasped hands, then up at her fearful eyes. “Don’t go. I just...never thought this would happen. It took me a long time to get over you, you know,” she sighed, the sound driving a deep spike of guilt into Yongsun’s chest. “You...yesterday you undid months and months of work just by walking in. Then you ran away again...I can’t pretend it didn’t hurt like it did the first time.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Byulyi bit her lip. “How about dinner first?Tomorrow. As friends.”

 

Yongsun lit up, hopeful once more. “Of course! Um, I mean,” she said shyly, “that would be great.”

 

The funny thing about friendship is that it is often meant as a platonic truce. And, perhaps the charade could be considered a success when two people—both intensely attracted to each other—were able to get through three consecutive three-hour-long dinner dates without giving into the any of the impulses tempting them throughout all three nights.

 

It was a success, Yongsun thought, that she could be so open and comfortable with the other woman. Even if being with Byulyi made Yongsun want to tear her clothes off whenever she triggered an old memory, she had to admit that it was nice to have a friend for a change.

 

“Are you sure you should be going out with me tonight?” Byulyi asked on the fourth day.

 

Yongsun had called her during a short lunch break with some inane excuse about picking restaurants. She knew she was in over her head, but she couldn’t help missing Byulyi’s voice. Surely, this was normal platonic friend behaviour.

 

“Yes, of course,” she said, her eyes wandering to the traffic outside her office window. “Do you...not want to?”

 

“I do,” Byulyi sighed, “but...have you been sleeping lately? I’m happy you want to see me, but knowing you, you’ve probably given up your nights just to catch up on the work you missed.”

 

Yongsun’s heart tingled at the affection and worry laced in Byulyi’s voice. Though they seldom spoke with words in the past, it had always amazed her how perceptive the other woman seemed to be.

 

“Well, it’s worth it,” she confessed quietly.

 

A chuckle warmed her ear. “Then I’ll see you at 9 tonight.”

 

They spent a week apart after their fifth date. Yongsun knew that in spite of the clarity of her desires, they were moving quickly. It was becoming harder and harder for her to hold back. The only thing that the frequency of their meetings proved was how ridiculous it was to keep pretending. They had spent most of their fourth and fifth dates holding hands throughout their meal, and it infuriated Yongsun to no end that Byulyi wasn’t putting her feelings into words.

 

She couldn’t blame her, of course. Perhaps she even deserved this, but Yongsun had never wanted anything more. And she didn’t want their past to ruin their future.

 

They mutually agreed on the absence, but even though they had technically really known each other for a week, it would be one of the hardest weeks in Yongsun’s recent memory. Every day, she wondered if Byulyi was thinking about her too. Every day, she wondered what her life was like before she had stepped into Byulyi’s shop. How could that feel so, so long ago?

 

At the end of the week, she drove to Byulyi’s store, determined to set the record straight. But the store was closed, and Byulyi didn’t pick up. Fearing the worst, she waited and waited that night—ignored all the strange looks she got as she paced in front of the sex shop—but Byulyi didn’t come back.

 

Just as she was considering calling the police after three hours, her secretary called. She grit her teeth and declined the call. She simply wasn’t in the mood. A minute later, her secretary called again. Once more, she declined the call.

 

At the third attempt, Yongsun begrudgingly picked up. “Make it quick,” she snapped.

 

“Finally!” Her secretary cried in exasperation. “There’s a woman here who’s been waiting for you for three hours. She won’t leave, and her giant bouquet is weirding everyone out. Can you come back to the office, please? I have a date in two hours and I still have a lot of work to do, so I’d rather not babysit this stranger.”

 

Yongsun, who had often questioned her decision to hire such a forward-speaking secretary, could almost kiss her through the phone. She drove back, weaving through traffic like a madwoman, and still felt like she could not get there fast enough.

 

She burst through the elevator, earning a few concerned looks from the few employees still working away on her floor. She quickly smoothed out her hair and straightened her clothes, determined at least to look as dignified as possible for the rest of her walk toward her office.

 

Two things caught her eye as she neared, her secretary’s teasing smirk as she rushed past her, through the hall and into the elevator. And a truly giant bouquet of flowers sitting in the lap of Moon Byulyi, who beamed brighter than any of the vivid colours in her hands as she approached.

 

Yongsun tugged her at the sleeve and pulled her into the privacy of her office, away from the curious eyes of any straggling employees. With the door closed behind her, she finally turned to Byulyi.

 

“Hello, yeba,” Byulyi greeted with a truly adorable lopsided grin. She extended the bouquet toward her with a faint blush on her cheeks. “These are for you.”

 

Yongsun mumbled her thanks and accepted the flowers with a slight stagger. “These are beautiful,” she said, “but what’s what are they for?”

 

“Oh! Um, you know”—Yongsun snorted a little at the erratic gestures toward her gift, but enjoyed Byulyi’s flustered expressions too much to interrupt her—“for...surviving the week and everything. I guess. But maybe...maybe the week wasn’t as...difficult and...strange for you as it was for me? Sorry, what am I saying? Ah, let’s just call it a congratulations for making it this far. You’re” —Byulyi peered over her at the golden plaque on her desk— “manager now! I never congratulated you on that before. So...yeah. There we go. I’ll just shut up now. I should’ve thought this through before I came here, but—ah, I don’t even know why I’m so nervous.”

 

Yongsun reached out under her new bouquet and squeezed her elbow. “Byul-ah,” she said with a poorly stifled grin, “it’s okay. Aish, I’ve never seen you so nervous before.”

 

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I don’t know, I guess I just…”

 

“I missed you too,” Yongsun finished hopefully. It was suddenly so quiet, she could hear the slightest hitch in Byulyi’s breath. Emboldened by her reaction, Yongsun gingerly placed her gift on her desk, then reached out to wrap her fingers around Byulyi’s. “Do you know why I wasn’t in my office?”

 

Byulyi shook her head.

 

“While you were waiting here with my secretary, I was at your store waiting for you to come back,” she giggled. “I’d been looking forward to seeing you all week, and I don’t know, I guess we sort of had the same thought. We’re quite the idiot pair, aren’t we?”

 

Byulyi’s eyes nearly popped out of her sockets, but the realization soon sent her doubling forward in laughter, her head nearly crashing into Yongsun’s as she folded into her shoulder. “Quite the idiot pair,” she agreed, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

 

When laughter faded, she gripped onto Yongsun’s arms. Yongsun could feel the slight movement of her chest against hers as Byulyi took a deep breath, then her breath at her neck as she took the plunge and wrapped her arms around Yongsun. “What the hell are we doing?” Byulyi mumbled.

 

“Pretending we’re not feeling all these things for each other. Like we used to, I guess,” Yongsun said, smiling a little against the tender softness of Byulyi’s neck. Her scent was so familiar, and so comforting.

 

“Like we used to,” Byulyi repeated. Her hands snaked around Yongsun’s waist and pulled her closer. “Did you ever think about me over the years? I spent so, so long wondering if we ever could’ve been...I don’t know...more? Or whether we were just two deluded strangers desperate for love. Like maybe I was just so...intoxicated by the sex that I stupidly thought we could do it forever or something.”

 

“Yes,” Yongsun admitted, planting a gentle kiss on her shoulder. “And I don’t want to go back to that. I know I was unfair to you, Byul,” she sighed, “but I was so scared. I had a plan, and I didn’t want to give it up. I’ve given up...so much...to be where I am today.” She pulled away, just far enough for Byulyi to read the sincerity in her eyes. “I don’t want to give you up again. So...I hope that you won’t give up on me either.”

 

Byulyi grinned. “Not if you admit you like me enough to go on real dates with me,” she said, kissing her softly on her lips.

 

“Oh, I like you more than enough for real dates,” Yongsun whispered, hot in her ear, as a wicked smile spread across her lips. “I might even like you enough to take you home with me after those real dates. I might still have a few products from your fine establishment that I’ll need a little help with.”

 

Byulyi blushed bright red. “I don’t know what just happened,” she breathed, “but I might have just fallen a little bit in love with you, Kim Yongsun.”

 

End


	12. What You Don't Do by Lianne La Havas

 

Moon Byulyi’s favourite customer always stayed late on Tuesdays. At first, it was purely coincidental. She’d quietly allow her customer to enjoy an extra cup of coffee—decaf by then—while she cleaned up. Striking as the woman was, Byulyi always secretly prayed that she would leave soon, or she was definitely going to get an earful when she got home. And on Tuesdays, she almost always did.

 

Even so, she quickly went from ignoring her customer to talking to listening. It was the kind of relationship she never knew she needed, and it all started with a moment of curiosity.

 

She had left her phone by the till one Tuesday, just as her customer had approached for her routine coffee. As usual, she had placed her order at the bar just as she began to close up. On that particular day, Byulyi’s phone lit up with an incoming call. The customer had looked over at the picture of Byulyi kissing the cheek of a grinning pink-haired woman, and raised a brow.

 

Slightly miffed by this stranger’s reaction, Byulyi simply said, “Large decaf?”

 

Much to Byulyi’s surprise, the customer chuckled. “Relax, she’s cute.”

 

Byulyi looked up to meet her smokey eyes. “Yes,” she said slowly, “she is.”

 

“Actually,” the customer said, handing over her credit card, “I couldn’t help but notice she looks a bit like—”

 

“Yes, she’s a singer,” Byulyi sighed. It was a question she had come across many times before, especially when the subject herself walked through the door, too unaware of her own fame at times to remember her sunglasses and face mask. “Yes, we are dating. No, I won’t take a picture with you.”

 

The other woman scoffed. “I was going to say she looks like my girlfriend.” She flashed her phone to reveal a rather unflattering photo of a dimpled woman looking down at the camera from above her nostrils. “Though, I feel even closer to you right now knowing you’re dating one of the greatest singers of our generation. That was Solar, wasn’t it? I knew I felt this vibe from her! Wow, you must get a lot of comments.”

 

“We try not to broadcast it to the world,” Byulyi said tersely, hoping to curb the stranger’s building excitement.

 

“Ah, what was her real name again?”

 

Byulyi paused to swipe her eyes over the other woman. Apprehensively, she responded: “Kim Yongsun.”

 

“She was quite the legendary rookie back in her day, wasn’t she?”

 

Byulyi passed a freshly French-pressed cup of coffee across the counter. “Yeah,” Byulyi mumbled.

 

“When did you meet?”

 

Byulyi grit her teeth. “College.”

 

“Dating a celebrity isn’t quite what everyone expects it to be, huh?” The woman sighed, tapping her long fingernails across the counter.

 

“No. Let’s just say...it’s not easy. I don’t recommend it.”

 

Finally, the customer reached out and touched the blue cup, but hesitated, suddenly thoughtful as she chewed her lip. “My name is Ahn Hyejin, by the way,” she said with an expectant glow in her eyes.

 

Byulyi’s brows shot up. “You’re—”

 

“Yes, I was in the tabloids last month. Yes, we are in love. And no, I won’t take a picture with you,” Hyejin cut in with a small smile.

 

Byulyi smirked. “I was going to say I see you every Tuesday, but now that you mention it, you’re dating Jung Wheein, aren’t you?” Byulyi tucked a hand beneath her chin and leaned on her elbow. “Didn’t she win the Best New Female Artist award this year? Can’t be easy.”

 

Hyejin sighed. “No, it really isn’t.”

 

“Isn’t her studio nearby? You’re waiting for her, aren’t you?”

 

“Yeah. I work in a restaurant, and we close a little earlier on Tuesdays. I could go home, but I’d rather not go back to an empty house if I can help it. Besides, I like your coffee, and if I wait around, I pick Wheein up once in a while.”

 

“Suddenly, I do feel closer to you now,” Byulyi said with a grin, “But you do realize my cafe closes at 11, right?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And I have someone waiting for me at home.”

 

Hyejin shrugged. “Well, now I do. I know I’ve been selfish, but you seemed really nice. Now I’m even thinking it’s meant to be. Oh, but you should return that call to Miss Solar.”

 

“Oh no,” Byulyi muttered, scrambling for her phone. “I almost forgot.”

 

“Well, I guess I’ll just take this and go. Thank you, Miss Barista,” Hyejin said, raising her cup with a smile.

 

Byulyi’s phone flared to life once more with her girlfriend’s name across the screen, but as much as she dreaded her wrath, her thumb hovered over the green answer symbol. “Wait,” she said, just as Hyejin was about to turn around. “It’s Byulyi. My name is Moon Byulyi.”

 

Hyejin looked up with a crooked grin. “Nice to meet you.”

 

“Yes...just…”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Don’t give up on her,” Byulyi said, her eyes drifting wistfully to the past, “I...if she’s worth it, don’t forget why.”

 

“I won’t,” Hyejin replied with a wave of her hand, “I love her more than anything in this world.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Thank you, unnie.”

 

Since then, Hyejin returned every Tuesday to ask for her cup of coffee at 11 PM. On some days, she would arrive earlier, but she always waited until the last customer left to approach Byulyi.

 

There would often be a question, a note of insecurity she needed to decipher, perhaps, or something she just needed to get off her chest. While most of these worries were quite familiar to the older barista, Byulyi was often surprised by what she discovered through these conversations. Distinctly, there were two things.

 

First, Hyejin and Wheein were far bolder than she ever was with Yongsun.

 

“What do you mean her manager caught you two naked in her dressing room?” Byulyi said, aghast.

 

“Obviously you change clothes in a dressing room, unnie. And you have to be sort of naked when you change.”

 

“But why were you there? And why were you naked?”

 

“If I showed you the outfit Wheein had on, you’d understand. But then I know what kind of face you’d most likely make and I’d have to punch you out of protective jealousy.”

 

“Well I’m glad you’re so self-aware,” Byulyi said, backing up a little from the bar where Hyejin always sat. She had a feeling that Hyejin would likely not think twice about climbing over the bar and into her workspace if she ever wanted to punch her.

 

Hyejin cracked a smile. “Let’s just say we’ve had a long time to figure out my flaws. Besides, don’t you support Yongsun unnie at her shows?”

 

“Sometimes. But I don’t get naked with her. Oh my god, weren’t you afraid of getting caught?”

 

Hyejin raised a brow. “We did. That’s why I don’t understand why it’s a big deal. We came out. Everyone knows we’re crazy about each other. Isn’t that enough? I mean, Wheein kisses me on the street.”

 

“WHAT?” Byulyi dropped the cup she’d been cleaning into the sink, and whipped back to give Hyejin a look of pure horror.

 

But Hyejin simply shrugged a shoulder. “It’s not a big deal. We should fight for our right to love freely, don’t you think?”

 

“Oi, you’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days.”

 

Second, Byulyi and Yongsun had very different ways of working through their differences.

 

“What do you mean you just ignore each other?” Hyejin cried. “How the fuck do you solve anything?”

 

Byulyi rubbed her neck sheepishly. “I mean, we get over it pretty quick. Like we fight, I send her a cute picture of a puppy or something, and we make up.”

 

“So that time she had to go to China for a week and didn’t contact you…”

 

Byulyi shrugged. “I slammed a door in her face, but she started it since she ate my yoghurt. I probably deserved it, but she did too!”

 

“You two are children, you know that?”

 

“That’s a rude thing to say about your elders, Hyejinie.”

 

“Okay, but what about big problems? Fundamental problems? You can’t just pretend those don’t exist.”

 

“We just fuck it away when we have time,” Byulyi deadpanned.

 

“Unnie!”

 

“I’m kidding. Seriously, I am,” Byulyi laughed. “I mean, there was a time when that’s what we did, but eventually, things boiled over. It had to. One time, she’d posted pictures with other girls in the industry, and—you know how it can be when you don’t see each other, or have any real, meaningful conversations for a long time—I thought she was going to leave me. People in that business are so amazing and beautiful, and I’m just...me. Sure, I have a small business and I do alright for myself, but I had my doubts, you know? I think she found me crying on the carpet one night and we talked through it. You really have to when nobody has the time or energy to try and read minds. It’s a lot better now that she doesn’t have as many schedules. We just fight over stupid shit, but I love her all the same.”

 

“You two are gross and adorable, and I love it.”

 

“What about you and Wheein?”

 

“Well, we’ve known each other almost all our lives, but I’d be lying if I said we didn’t take the fucking-your-problems-away path once in a while. I mean, it doesn’t always have to be sex, but we’ve definitely ignored things and hoped that love can work things out on its own.”

 

“What kind of things?”

 

Hyejin took a sip of her decaf and drummed her fingers on the cup. “Like this tabloid situation. I know she’s trying to be brave in front of the media, but my Wheein is really sensitive. I know she wants to keep her private life separate from her professional, but it’s impossible. And...I think it’s my fault that I put her in this situation.”

 

Byulyi, who has been cleaning the counter with a rag, stilled. “What do you mean?”

 

“Well, we never really talked about it, but someone caught us in front of our apartment, and I guess I was the one pushing her to come out. She’d been wanting to, but I don’t know if she was ready. I just kind of pushed her while the opportunity was there. But I guess I’d always been kind of rash. She sees a lot of things I don’t, and looking back now...I was really selfish, huh?”

 

Byulyi shook her head. “You want to show the world she’s yours. Love openly. I can understand that.”

 

“I’m going to call her.”

 

“I...kind of want to give Yongsun a call too.”

 

“Same time next week then?” Hyejin said, already hopping off the stool with her phone in her hand.

 

“Hey, we should hang out,” Byulyi said. She exited the bar to walk Hyejin to door as she did every Tuesday night. “All four of us, maybe. I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I think it might be nice. I think Yongsun is just dying to meet you two.”

 

Hyejin grinned. “We’d love that.”

 

Despite the differences, it quickly became apparent that the two pairs were two sides of the same coin. Two generations of love trapped in the same fast-paced world reflected in a double-sided mirror.

 

There were days when talking to Hyejin made her envious, but there were also days when talking to Hyejin made her want to run home and throw her arms around Yongsun and tell her how much she loved her. The best part was sometimes telling Yongsun about what they’d talked about, and seeing her wide-eyes shock or hearing her laugh ring through their shared apartment.

 

It was inevitable that Hyejin would become one of her closest friends. She understood what it was like to be one of the luckiest women in the world, yet feel the weight of paradise on her shoulders. She knew what it was like to make one compromise after another, to accommodate your partner’s dreams, yet still be able to love with your entire being.

 

And all it took was a moment of curiosity.


	13. The Cat on the Balcony

Jung Wheein had always wanted a cat. She wanted a cat more than anything else in the world, and when the opportunity arrived in the form of a little ball of white and orange fur, she jumped for it without another thought. The problem was...this cat was a kitten, and this kitten was a lot of work.

 

She hadn’t thought about the gargantuan task of shaping the little mind of a living, growing, and adapting creature. She hadn’t thought about the rambunctious energy, and the utter stupidity that sometimes came with her young kitten.

 

Still, she loved him more than anything else, and she liked to think she was getting the hang of this kitten-mom deal.

 

It was mid-April—just warm enough for light jackets, but too cool still for a drink on the balcony. April would soon give way to May, then the sweltering months of June, July, and August. In other words, Wheein would soon find herself returning to home to a solid one-bedroom box of unbreathable air, sticky moisture, and heavy, heavy heat.

 

It was her kitten, Ggomo’s first year in this apartment, and if Wheein was barely going to survive the summer, what chance did a tiny and—sometimes useless—creature in a fur coat have?

 

Fortunately, Wheein had a balcony. It wasn’t fancy—just a small, grey rectangle with a sturdy, solid fence. She barely used it herself, but she was familiar with the pleasant breeze coming in from the nearby river. If she could acclimatize Ggomo to the balcony, she could leave him out there during the summer.

 

It would be easy, she thought. She pictured herself laying across the couch at the height of summer, the slight breeze coming through the open balcony doors. She pictured her adorable Ggomo curled up on his cushion outside, his fur ruffling softly. It was the little things. Mostly the dream of a hassle-free, drama-free life of a kitten owner.

 

Also known as a completely naive fantasy.

 

So, here we were: mid-April. Wheein, with her orange-white kitten in one hand, pushed opened the balcony doors with the other. She had it all laid out: his bed in the corner with a few treats on top. What else did she need? Just in case, she even had a little bowl of water across from the bed.

 

“What do you think?” She said, nudging the cat in her hand with her cheek. Ggomo looked around curiously, itching to jump off and explore. He stretched his neck, and extended his back legs into Wheein’s torso. Well, she thought, at least he wasn’t scared.

 

She put him down gingerly, and watched as he sniffed everything. He wandered toward the fence, then to his bed, then to the partition dividing her and her neighbour’s balconies. Finally, he trotted over to his bed and laid his head down on an outstretched paw. Satisfied by the calm curiosity of her kitten, Wheein returned inside to make herself a cup of tea.

 

By the time the tea was well-steeped and thoroughly enjoyed with a good book on the couch, Wheein finally glanced up at the balcony door.

 

Her whole body, from her blood to the hair on her neck, froze and grew cold. Ggomo was gone.

 

She shot out of her seat and leapt through the open balcony door.

 

“Ggomo?” She called. Panic drove her voice higher and higher each time she called his name. Still, no response.

 

She gripped the railing and cautiously looked down onto the streets below. Suddenly, every horror story she had ever heard about cats somehow falling off balconies came flooding to her. Her heart pounded in her ears as her mind began weaving one big tapestry of frenzied, preposterous scenarios. What if he saw a bird and leapt for it? What if he wanted to explore the railing? What if he was just stupid enough to fall and die for no good reason? 

 

Wheein checked inside, then outside, then inside once more. She didn’t miss a single centimetre.

 

Finally, as she stood on the balcony on the verge of tears, she heard a little, mewling voice. She whipped her head around to the partition between her and her neighbour’s balcony. There, in the little crack between the wall and the partition, was Ggomo’s stupid little, adorable, innocent face.

 

“Ggomo?” she said, kneeling down, “Come back.”

 

It was useless.

 

She enticed him with a treat, placing it just beyond the partition in the hopes that he would squeeze back underneath. Then, she proceeded to watch the cat squeeze his face under the partition and bite at the treat he could not reach. In any other circumstance, it would be adorable, Wheein thought warily. 

 

“Ggomo!” she cried. “Come back!”

 

Panic quickly turned into frustration, then into anger.

 

She stepped back and studied the partition with her hands on her hips. The board stretched from floor to almost the ceiling, leaving only an inch of space—a space so small it must’ve pained Ggomo enough to scare him. In other words, he was never going to come back on his own.

 

As she could not squeeze underneath the tiny gap like her kitten, she thought about scaling the side of her balcony to get to the other side. She shook her head—she was not going to risk death because of her stupid cat.

 

She sighed, and kneeled down once more to poke her cat in the nose through the crack. “You idiot,” she grumbled.

 

Several attempts at alternating between coaxing and yelling later, Wheein found herself in front of her neighbour’s door. With a sigh, she knocked.

 

Silence.

 

She knocked again.

 

Oh no, she thought, what if nobody lived here? True enough, she had been so busy with everything in her own life that she’d never taken the chance to know who lived on her floor. Her apartment was soundproof enough that she could only hear the opening and closing of doors, but there were nine other apartments surrounding her own.

 

What if her neighbour was out of town?

 

Could she break in?

 

She retreated back inside and scribbled out a note: “My cat is on your balcony. Please allow me to retrieve him. Your neighbour in 2904, Wheein.” She taped it on her neighbour’s door, just above the door knob, then descended down the elevator to find another solution.

 

The concierge today was a stern-looking woman reading a newspaper. Wheein didn’t care much for striking up conversations with strangers, but the longer she left Ggomo up there on his own, the more likely she thought he might suddenly decide to leap off the side of the building.

 

“Excuse me,” Wheein said nervously.

 

The woman looked up, unamused. “How can I help you?” she said with the all the enthusiasm of a dead fish.

 

“Um, this might be a bit strange, but my cat is on my neighbour’s balcony, and nobody is home. Is there any way I can...get in there?”

 

The woman blinked, and allowed the long awkward silence to fester and sink in, as if wanting Wheein to know exactly how ridiculous she sounded. Wheein squirmed. 

 

Finally, a small smile crept on the woman’s face. “I can probably give you their phone number, but I can’t help you break into the room. What’s your neighbour’s room number?”

 

Ten minutes later, Wheein was glaring down at Ggomo, who was curled up beside the partition, peacefully sleeping on the neighbour’s balcony as if nothing was wrong. As Wheein punched in her neighbour’s phone number, she couldn’t help getting even more annoyed as she thought about how many strangers she’d had to talk to today on her own free time.

 

She put her phone to her ear, and listened to it ring. And ring. And ring. Does this person exist? She began to wonder.

 

“Hi!” A woman’s voice comes through.

 

Wheein’s heart rate sped up, and she immediately rushed out a hasty hello.

 

“This is Ahn Hyejin. Leave a message!”

 

Of course Wheein tried to talk to a voicemail message. And as if talking to strangers weren’t enough, she had to leave a weird voicemail on a stranger’s phone too. Wheein continued to glare at Ggomo’s sleeping form. Then came the dreaded beep.

 

“Hi...this is going to sound a little crazy, but, uh, my name is Wheein. I live next door, and my stupid cat is on your balcony, and I’m wondering if I can come in to get him...If, uh, if you get this, can...you call me back?”

 

Her heart was still beating even after she hung up. The woman had a nice voice, and she just left the world’s most awkward voicemail message. She didn’t even leave her phone number. Ggomo’s stupid was definitely rubbing off on her.

 

Just as she was going to give her kitten another shout, she heard a door in the hallway open and close. It sounded close by, and she darted for the door. The hallway was empty and lined with closed doors, but the note on her neighbour’s door was gone.

 

“Oh, thank god,” she muttered, as she gave her neighbour’s door another knock.

 

No reply.

 

If somebody stole the note, she was going to burn down the whole building.

 

She knocked again.

 

Suddenly, she heard a clatter, a thump, and then a shout. “Holy sh—!” came the loud cry.

 

She knocked once more, but she imagined her neighbour was probably busy wrestling her cat on the balcony. Fearing the worst, she ducked back into her own unit. But just as her door closed behind her, she heard another door open.

 

In a moment, she was right back out in the hall.

 

A white and orange blur zipped around the corner, followed closely by a girl in a black spaghetti strap, stooped down with her arms out. “Get back here!” she cried.

 

It took a moment for the situation to sink in—and not just because her neighbour’s too-tight jeans were more than a little distracting—before Wheein remembered to go after them. When she rounded the corner, she shouted Ggomo’s name, and saw him. He sat in the middle of the hall, his tail swishing, his eyes wide. The girl was behind him, arms and legs splayed out like a starfish to stop him.

 

Their eyes met for a moment, and a kind of mutual understanding seemed to sweep over them as they inched closer to the kitten. Ggomo stood, ready to run.

 

“Come here, Ggomo,” Wheein cooed, reaching for the cat. “Good kitty.”

 

Ggomo didn’t move. The two humans drew closer, and closer.

 

Wheein was a second away from diving in and picking up the kitten, when, all of a sudden, the elevator door dinged open and out stepped a very confused couple when the cat zipped under their legs and into the elevator. The neighbour, elbowing the couple out of the way, dove after the cat first. Wheein took the extra few seconds to bow and apologize, then went in after her just as the door began to close.

 

Inside the elevator, the neighbour struggled with the cat in her arms. Ggomo cried out, and stretched his whole body as far away from the stranger as he could. He tried to climb on her shoulder, squirming and waving his stiff arms. Meanwhile, Wheein could not help savouring a few extra moments to watch the comical display between her cat and her beautiful neighbour before she reached in and extracted her cat.

 

“Thank you for your help, Hyejin,” Wheein said with a shy smile as she took the kitten into her own arms.

 

The girl raised both brows. “How did you know my name?”

 

“Oh, um, I wasn’t sure if anybody lived next door, so I asked the concierge. She gave me your number, so...I left you a voicemail. But maybe, um, just delete it? It was an awkward situation and I didn’t really know what to do, so, yeah, it was awkward. Sorry, I’m rambling a bit. I’m just happy to get him back.”

 

“Your cat is really something else,” her neighbour replied with a chuckle. “When I got your note on the door, I almost thought it was a joke.”

 

“I wish,” Wheein laughed, poking Ggomo in the nose. He shook his head, and settled sleepily into the crook of Wheein’s arms.

 

“What was he doing out there anyway?”

 

As Wheein relayed the exhausting events of the afternoon, the elevator descended to the ground floor, where nobody got on. Hyejin reached forward to press a button, and the elevator began to ascend again.

 

“You’ve had quite the afternoon,” she said, grinning.

 

Wheein smiled back nervously, deciding—at this most inopportune time—that she really liked Hyejin’s smile. Now that Ggomo was sleeping peacefully and she was alone with her neighbour, she had time to study the beautiful black-haired woman. And Hyejin was studying her too, with a kind of intensity she’d never experienced before. Wheein felt her cheeks warm.

 

“It was pretty stressful,” Wheein admitted.

 

“It must’ve been,” Hyejin replied. After a pause, she smiled once more, “This might be a selfish thought, but I’m happy I got to meet you, Wheein. I had no idea I had such a cute neighbour.”

 

This time, Wheein’s cheeks burned. She stiffened, unsure how to reply to such a bold comment. “Me too,” she said shyly. It wasn’t at all what she had planned to say—those two words containing far more honesty than she was used to giving up, but the widening grin on Hyejin’s face was almost worth it.

 

“So,” Hyejin said, biting her lip thoughtfully, “I wouldn’t want you to worry about your cat on my balcony again, but I don’t really have any other excuse to see you again. So, um, would you...be interested in hanging out?”

 

Wheein stared at the way her teeth tugged at her lip. This was too good to be true. She tore her gaze away to look at her cat. Surely, Ggomo’s stupidity had knocked her into such a stupor that she was dreaming all of this up.

 

Hyejin rubbed the back of her neck, her cheeks pink as she took one more plunge. “Dinner, maybe?”

 

Wheein smiled. “Dinner...would be wonderful.”


	14. Love That Grows Old (AKA Notepaper II: Seven Years Later)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: This story is a sequel to a story I wrote last year entitled Notepaper, as well as a parallel story to a story in this collection entitled Rolling Stone Pt 2. In this experiment, I really wanted to connect two seemingly unrelated fics. I played with lots of ideas from all of my previous work, but this one was my favourite. It was a bit of a challenge, but I'm very excited to be sharing it with you all. This is a gift for everyone who has followed me for a very long time, and has tirelessly read almost every single thing this one crazy mind has conjured up. I love you all :)
> 
> Questions, comments, suggestions? All of your support is much appreciated! 

“Nana, it’s time for bed!”

 

A little girl in a rabbit onesie yawned, though she remained so engrossed with the video in her little hands that she could barely hear her mother’s voice in the kitchen. She swung her legs and hummed along to the tune quietly filtering through the speakers.

 

“Yoona?”

 

The little girl ducked her head, and continued swinging her legs, hoping her mother wouldn’t notice.

 

“Kim Yoona!”

 

Still the voice went unheard. A pair of slippers began shuffling around the kitchen.

 

A lock beeped. The front door creaked open and slammed closed.

 

“I’m home!”

 

“Mama!”

 

Yoona slammed her iPad into the couch cushion beside her and leapt up at the sound of her other mother's voice. She padded around the couch, only to be stopped by her mother’s disapproving look from inside the kitchen. She had her hands on her hips, and her lips pressed in a frown. Yoona ducked her head sheepishly.

 

“What did I just say?” Her mother sighed.

 

Just then, a figure emerged from the dimly lit hallway, wrapped up in a long black coat and a scarf around her pink cheeks. Her eyes, the only part of her face visible from the oversized scarf, curved into crescents at the sight of her daughter running up and grabbing her legs.

 

“Hey, Little Fart,” she said, kneeling down to embrace her.

 

“Hi, Big Fart!” Yoona replied with a giggle.

 

“Byul-ah,” came the voice in the kitchen, “you spoil her too much. Nana, I won’t ask you again—please go get ready for bed.”

 

“You heard your mother,” Byulyi said, ruffling Yoona’s hair. “Go wash your face.”

 

The girl sighed dramatically, cast her big doey eyes to her mothers’ faces—slowly, one at a time—and slinked off toward the bathroom. Only six years old and so dramatic, Byulyi thought with a grin. From behind her, her wife sighed and wrapped her arms around Byulyi’s waist.

 

“Welcome home.”

 

Byulyi’s smile broadened, as she turned around inside her wife’s arms and returned her embrace. “Did our little Yonggi miss her shining star today?” she cooed.

 

Yongsun groaned, and rolled her eyes. “Don’t be gross, you stupid dork.”

 

“Aish, so mean,” Byulyi laughed. “How was the library today? Did you and Nana have fun?”

 

Yongsun beamed. “We brought back a ton of books!” She said, excitement rising. “I picked up The Curious Incident for you too. I know you don’t have time, but you can finish it in probably less two hours, and it’s so good—you said you wanted to brush up on first-person last week, right? Well Mark Haddon is amazing—it’ll make you so uncomfortable and frustrated with the world, but it’s exactly how the character would feel, and you just get so lost in the story, and you—”

 

Byulyi grabbed Yongsun’s erratically gesturing hands, and stilled them between her own. “Slow down!” She said with a chuckle. “You’re going to spoil the whole story before I get to read it.”

 

Yongsun bit her lip, as if her thoughts were still rolling too quickly to be stopped, but—with no small amount of effort—she managed to halt the overexcited whirlwind of ideas with a deep exhale. “Also, Irene says hi.”

 

Byulyi hummed, tracing circles into the back of Yongsun’s hands, and listened quietly as Yongsun relayed her conversation with the librarian, which concluded with a dinner invitation from Irene and Wendy.

 

“Nana might like to see the twins again,” Byulyi said with a nod. Without the burden of her coat, she returned to her wife’s side and pressed a kiss to her cheeks.

 

After all these years, she was thrilled to see the slight blush on Yongsun’s cheeks, and the almost shy “okay” on her lips.

 

When the silence finally settled, the quiet smile broadened across Byulyi’s face. “I brought you a gift.”

 

Yongsun quirked a brow. “I thought you said you had a meeting with your editor today.”

 

“Oh yes, editor-nim is a pain as usual, but we’re on schedule for once, so-o-o-o I’ve been calling in some favours, and I made something for you and Nana.”

 

“Oh? Is it a book?” Yongsun’s eyes brightened, nearly shaking with excitement once more despite how much effort she’d put into calming her love of books.

 

She breathed, appearing as neutral as she could.

 

But the disinterested act she put on failed spectacularly when, only seconds later, she clawed at Byulyi’s arm. “What is it? What is it?”

 

Byulyi, by now more than familiar with her wife’s little patterns, decided to tease her a little by prolonging the gift. She hugged her closer, inhaling the scent she loved so much, and planting a little kiss on her shoulder. When Yongsun began to protest, she squeezed her even tighter, and rocked her from side to side.

 

“Byul-ah, what are you doing?” Yongsun cried, trying to break out of the bone-crushing hug with a fist. “Let go and give me my present.”

 

“Say please,” Byulyi teased.

 

Yongsun glared.

 

“You have to pray for your present, unnie. ‘Oh great and wonderful Moon Byulyi, please give me my present,’” she demonstrated in a high pitched voice.

 

Yongsun rolled her eyes once more, but could not hold back the mischievous grin. “Oh, my great and wonderful and amazing and perfect and sexy and talented cutie, Moon Byulyi,” she smirked when Byulyi’s cheeks flared pink, “please give me my present.”

 

Byulyi shook her head with a smile. “You never do anything halfway, do you?”

 

Yongsun stuck her tongue out: “Only when I married you.” Byulyi’s face—her slowly dropping jaw, wide eyes, pale cheeks, and stiff neck—it was so comical that Yongsun had to throw her head back and laugh; so genuine that she had to kiss her better, her apology dancing playfully against Byulyi’s lips.

 

By the time the banter lost its steam, they found Yoona waiting patiently in the hall, her stuffed rabbit hugged tightly against her chest. “Are you all done, mommies?” She rubbed her eyes. “I’m sleepy.”

 

“Aigo, you can’t be sleepy yet,” Byulyi said, picking her up. “I have a present for you and mama!”

 

Yoona perked up, her happy smile nearly identical to her mother’s.

 

Yongsun walked up and blew into her daughter’s round cheeks, inciting a happy giggle that washed away all the frustrations of the day. “We’ll see. This Big Fart has been hiding the present for so long, it might not exist.”

 

Byulyi puffed out her chest. “Big fart would never disappoint Little Fart,” she said, kissing her daughter’s other cheek.

 

“Don’t fight,” Yoona whined.

 

“Alright, alright.”

 

Byulyi put her daughter down and held her hand on one side, while Yongsun held the other. Happily holding both her mothers’ hand, Yoona couldn’t help skipping a little on the short walk to her bedroom. Once she was comfortably tucked into her sheets, Yongsun, sitting at the edge of her bed, leaned in for a kiss on the forehead. 

 

Meanwhile, Byulyi finally peeled off her coat and draped it on a nearby chair. She reached into her bag and pulled out a flat, square object wrapped in brown paper.

 

Yongsun and Yoona watched in equal anticipation as she presented the gift to her wide-eyed daughter. “Wanna open it, Little Fart?”

 

The girl squealed and began clawing at the paper, despite Yongsun's stern warning: “Yoona, what are you supposed to say?”

 

Yoona looked up briefly. “Thank you, Big Fart,” she said with a toothy grin.

 

“That’s better,” Yongsun replied with a ruffle of her hair.

 

Yongsun and Byulyi snuggled up on either side of their daughter and watched with eager anticipation as Yoona unwrapped the present. Her mouth, stuck in an “O” shape, widened, looking like the splitting image of her mother with her chubby cheeks completing her awed expression.

 

“A picture book!” Yoona squealed. “It’s so pretty!”

 

The cover was a lush green forest surrounding a meadow. At the centre of the meadow was a woman with a loincloth, her unruly black hair billowing behind her as she stood poised beside a bear and a blonde elf. Yoona tilted her head, confused. Something looked familiar.

 

Yongsun was the first to speak: “Oh my god.” She covered her mouth. “Is that what I think it is?”

 

“What is it, Mama?”

 

Byulyi wrapped her arm around Yoona’s shoulder, and squeezed in beside her on the bed. “Seven years ago,” Byulyi explained, casting a loving glance at her wife’s profile, “before you were born, Little Fart, I fell in love with a woman, and she was just way, way, way too good for me.”

 

Yoona scrunched up her face. “Better than Mama?”

 

Byulyi laughed. “Well, you see,” she stretched behind Yoona’s head and ran a finger down Yongsun’s jaw with a wink and a grin, “this woman was amazing. She inspired me in so many ways, and I wanted to tell her—so, I wrote a book.”

 

“Correction: you talked a lot about writing a book, but you didn’t,” Yongsun added matter-of-factly.

 

“Mama, you knew this person? Was this when you were secretly in love with Big Fart too?”

 

Yongsun blushed, and cleared her throat. “It wasn’t a secret. Your mama was just an idiot.”

 

“Hey!” Byulyi pouted. “Anyway, Little Fart, it is your mom. I wanted to write a book for her when I realized how much I loved her—I even asked her for advice!”

 

“Except your silly Mama ended up writing a rap instead. Did you know your Big Fart wanted to be a rapper?”

 

Yoona’s eyes bulged. “Mama used to be...cool?”

 

“Nana, we need to stop having play dates with Sumi. Hyejin and Wheein are teaching you bad things.”

 

“Mama, no! Sumi is my bestest friend in the whole wide world!” Yoona cried, tugging at Byulyi’s shirt.

 

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” Yongsun said, rubbing the bridge of her nose with a thumb and forefinger. “Byul-ah, you’re going off-track.”

 

“Fine, fine.” Byulyi pointed to the cover of the book. “The story I wanted to write for Mama No-Fun over here was about your Aunt Hyejin.”

 

Yoona followed her finger in wonderment. “That’s her? She’s even cooler than she is in real life!”

 

“Yep! This was about Hyejin the Warrior,” Byulyi said. “Didn’t your Aunt Wheein do such a good job with the art?”

 

Yongsun, who had been eying the title for a while now, wondered out loud: “Wasn’t it…?”

 

“Shhh,” Byulyi pressed a finger to Yongsun’s lips, and leaned in to whisper in her ear. “It’s not kid-friendly.”

 

“What do you mean?” Yongsun whispered back.

 

“Do you want to explain Hyejin being a wild and sexy barbarian to our six-year-old?”

 

Yongsun rounded her lips, and pressed her thumb and forefinger together to gesture her understanding. Byulyi often surprised her with her thoroughness. As much as she can sometimes act like a child, she was always responsible. Even when they had been discussing starting a family, all those years ago—she could still hear her friends’ and family's’ comments, sprinkled with a dash too much judgment, about the two of them having a child so quickly into their relationship—she never doubted that Byulyi would be a good mother in her own way.

 

While Yoona and Byulyi teased each other about the whispering, Yongsun reached over Yoona and opened the book to the first page. Amidst the forest green background, the white words read:

 

For the greatest loves of my life

 

She ran a hand along the picture of Hyejin below, holding a book with a heart on the cover. With a jet-black pen, Wheein had drawn herself and Sumi on one side of Hyejin, and Yongsun, Byulyi, and Yoona on the other side. Saltwater pricked her eyes as a wave of nostalgia washed over her.

 

Ten years ago, Yongsun joined a program through her alma mater and took on a mentee, the fiery Ahn Hyejin. Being a fresh graduate from law school, her mission was to prepare her mentee for the next stage of life. She was, revelling in her wide-eyed ideals, excited. Except her young mentee was in her last year of university and didn’t want to be there at all.

 

She just wanted to play music.

 

But Yongsun never quit. Despite her busyness at her new job, she was relentless in making sure Hyejin completed the goals of her program. Over time, she began to suspect that Hyejin found it fun just to watch her try.

 

At the end of the year, they became very close. Hyejin introduced her to her girlfriend of, at that point, three years, as well as her best friend.

 

Wheein was charming and sweet, but it was Moon Byulyi who caught the young lawyer’s eye.

 

Back then, Byulyi, so awkwardly charming in her own way, was in a constant state of progress. Professionally, privately, whatever it may be—Byulyi didn’t have anything fully figured out. She was a floater, having graduated a few years ago with little to no direction in life.

 

She thought she wanted to be a rapper, simply because her writing was decent and her best friend was in a band. She thought she wanted to study biochemistry, because she was good at it in high school and a teacher told her she should. She thought she should be cool and aloof, because a few girls once called her a prince.

 

All of this paralysed Byulyi. She ended up with an office job she hated, and nothing but daydreams to help her pass her days.

 

Naturally, once Hyejin convinced Yongsun that she didn’t need a mentor—“Just because I like music, it doesn’t mean I’m going to be homeless, unnie”—Yongsun turned her attention to Byulyi.

 

Casual acquaintance quickly turned into friendship. They began seeing each other without Hyejin and Wheein. Friendship turned into yearning and yearning into love. 

 

The young lawyer was smitten.

 

“Are you alright, honey?”

 

Yongsun looked up and into Byulyi’s concerned face, and smiled. She’d certainly come a long way.

 

One of the best and worst decisions Byulyi has ever made was quitting her job to become a freelance writer. She had saved up a bit of money, and by then Yongsun was rising through the ranks. They had been together for about a year when they decided to get married and have a child. It was a precarious situation for the blooming writer. The beginning was filled with small jobs and meaningless words at best, and nothingness at worst. But when Yoona was born, she would not have traded the opportunity to be with her daughter for anything.

 

And on rare days like today, Yongsun would take the day off to trade places with her wife. Dropping in and out of Yoona’s life hadn’t been easy. Byulyi had established systems, and she spoiled their daughter endlessly. Yongsun often found herself playing bad cop in the early days, but as she freed up more and more time to be with her daughter, she and Byulyi both struck a balance. It hadn’t been easy, and the future was anything but certain, but she thought she was the luckiest woman in the world.

 

Here Yongsun’s eyes swept across the faces of her wife and daughter, then across the pages of the book in Yoona’s hands as they admired Wheein’s drawings in a muted whirl of laughter. If it weren’t for this story—this simple story of a girl, a bear, and an elf that came out of the collective imaginations of the bookworm lawyer and the lovesick rapper—none of this would’ve existed.

 

“Thank you, Byul,” she said, leaning behind Yoona to give her a kiss on the cheek.

 

Byulyi beamed.

 

“Can we read now?” Yoona said, flipping to the first page impatiently.

 

“Is this the original story?” Yongsun asked.

 

“You’ll see.”

 

 

ILLUSTRATION 1:

 

Hyejin, riding a big brown bear. In the background, a flock of birds fly high above them. They’re travelling along a dirt path through a clearing. Hyejin’s mass of black hair floats behind her like a cape. She wears strips of brown fur loosely around her golden body. The sun is fading from yellow to orange behind her, casting long shadows and a white glow around them.

 

“Once upon a time, there was once a warrior named Hyejin,” Byulyi began to read, “she was strong, reliable, beautiful, and everyone loved her.”

 

“This sounds familiar,” Yongsun said with a grin.

 

“Hyejin the Warrior and her best friend, Seulgi the Bear,” Byulyi went on, “liked to take peaceful walks in the meadow on sunny days.”

 

“Wait, is that Aunt Seulgi?” Yoona said, jabbing at the bear with a finger in amazement. “She’s so cute!”

 

“Oh yes, she wasn’t too happy about that when we first told her about this story, because she wasn’t a nice bear in some versions.” Yongsun said. She shook her head, recalling the poorly drawn stick figure bear she had used to demonstrate her ideas to Byulyi. While the piece of note paper was long gone, memories of that night would forever paint the walls of her mind. “She likes being a cute bear though.”

 

“Irene-unnie had a pretty good laugh too,” Byulyi added with a grin.

 

“You know, I don’t remember if I ever told you this, but Wendy called me the next day and told me that Irene printed and framed that picture and hung it in their apartment.”

 

“What, really? Wow, it’s been so long since the three of them lived together. It must’ve been before Irene and Seulgi broke up.”

 

“I wonder if they still have it. I don’t think Wendy would throw it away. We’ll have to ask them about it when we go visit the twins.”

 

“Mamas,” Yoona whined, shaking the book in her lap, “can we go back to the story now?”

 

Yoona impatiently flipped the page.

 

 

ILLUSTRATION 2:

 

Hyejin and Seulgi standing on the left page, a deep expanse of green below them fill half the page and poured onto the right page. Behind them, the sky is a watercolour ocean. On the right page, a blonde elf with short hair, pointed ears, and regal, green hunter’s garb stands with her back to the reader. Her silhouette fills the page, pushing the words around her head.

 

“One day, Hyejin the Warrior came across a beautiful elf,” Yongsun read. “She saw them approaching and gripped her bow tightly in her hands.”

 

“Stop!” Byulyi read, mimicking Wheein’s voice in a higher pitched tone. “Who goes there?”

 

“Mama, I’m telling Sumi’s mama that you think she sounds like that,” Yoona snickered.

 

“Aish, you’d betray your Big Fart like that?” Byulyi gripped her heart as if wounded.

 

“Sumi is my best friend,” she replied matter-of-factly.

 

Byulyi gasped. “Do you love Sumi more than your own mamas?”

 

“Of course!”

 

“Yoona, you should at least hesitate,” Yongsun said, patting down her daughter’s brown curls with a snicker. “You’re going to hurt Big Fart’s feelings.”

 

Byulyi stuck her tongue out at her Little Fart and crossed her arms, pretending to be as cross as possible. Yoona, by now no stranger to her mother’s theatrics, wrapped her arms around Byulyi and planted a wet kiss on her cheek.

 

“Big Fart is smiling now,” she announced. “You can keep reading, Mama.”

 

Yongsun cleared her throat. “Hyejin the Warrior, who had never seen such a beautiful girl before, decided right there and then that she wanted this girl to be her wife.

 

She did not notice the girl draw her bow, or the venomous caution in her tone. She did not notice how nervous the girl looked at the sight of the fearsome warrior, and the enormous bear. All Hyejin saw before her was the love of her life.”

 

Yongsun paused. “Wow,” she said. “This is different. Very strong. And very Hyejin.”

 

“The essence of Hyejin is very important,” Byulyi said, nodding sagely.

 

Yoona looked up at Byulyi. “What does that mean?”

 

Byulyi crossed her arms and squinted at Yoona with a critical glare. “If I tell you, you’ll tell Sumi. And if you tell Sumi, she’ll tell Hyejin, and Hyejin will definitely kick my butt.”

 

“I won’t tell Sumi!” Yoona whined.

 

“Promise?”

 

Yoona opened her mouth but stopped when she met Yongsun’s skeptical expression. “Yoona,” her mother gently chided, “you remember what we said about promises, right? You have to keep them.”

 

Yoona pressed her lips together and pushed them out in a signature pout. Foiled, she said quietly flipped the page.

 

 

ILLUSTRATION 3

 

On the left, the blonde elf points her bow at Hyejin. On the right, Hyejin smiles, casually leaning on Seulgi.

 

Byulyi continued to read: “‘Your Highness,’ Hyejin said, noting the intricate details of the elf’s royal embroidery as she approached her, ‘I am just passing through.’ Hyejin smiled, for she was so brave that she was not intimidated by the elf’s status or the tip of her bow.

 

‘Stand back!’ the elf cried, pulling her bowstring taut. ‘Don’t come any closer!’

 

‘Oh, but Your Highness, you are so beautiful up close!’ Hyejin the Warrior smiles a bright smile. Seulgi the Bear gives a little growl, and shakes her fur, knocking Hyejin the Warrior to the ground. Seulgi the Bear did not like Hyejin’s comment.”

 

“That really sounds like Sumi’s mama,” Yoona commented with a giggle.

 

“The elf princess did not move for a moment,” Yongsun read, “then she lowered her bow slowly in disbelief. Suddenly, she burst into laughter! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!”

 

“Mama, that’s not how Sumi’s mommy laughs,” Yoona chided. She demonstrated with a high-pitched cackle that sent her mothers’ hands flying to their ears.

 

“Kim Yoona!” Yongsun said sternly. The little girl stopped laughing at once. Her mother, seeing the wide-eyed response to her tone, relaxed into a smile. “It’s a little more like this.”

 

“No, it’s like this!”

 

Byulyi watched with a resigned smile as her daughter and wife took turns laughing, louder and more maniacal at each turn. At the end, she simply shook her head. “You do realize I have to tell Wheein about this, right?”

 

Yongsun leaned back against the headboard, and, behind their daughter’s back, stuck her tongue out at Byulyi, who simply blew a kiss in reply.

 

Yoona turned the page.

 

 

ILLUSTRATION 4:

 

An amulet shaped like a yellow flower glows warmly inside the elf’s palms. A gold chain, wrapped around the yellow stone, is wrapped around the archer’s hand.

 

“‘I see now that you are more foolish than you are dangerous,’ the archer said. ‘Excuse my manners. My name is Wheein. I am on a journey to see where this amulet leads me.’

 

‘A journey? That sounds fun. Let me come too.’

 

Hyejin didn’t know why she wanted to go. It sounded like a lot of work! But she was curious and bored, and Seulgi could use the exercise.”

 

Yoona giggled. “Obviously Sumi-Mama is in love.”

 

“Oh?” Byulyi raised a brow. “Somebody already knows the full story, I see. Guess we don’t need to keep reading.”

 

“No!” Yoona screeched. She tugged at her mother’s upper arm, but Byulyi crowded her arms and remained unmoved. When pleading didn’t have the immediate effect she’d intended, she turned and tugged at Yongsun’s sleeve. “Big Fart is mean to me,” she said matter-of-factly.

 

“Byul,” Yongsun said simply, flipping the page without looking up.

 

Byulyi pouted. “You always help the Fart Princess.”

 

“Just read the next page.”

 

 

ILLUSTRATION 5:

 

A yellow map, browned at the edges, mark the continents. Along the left, there are islands adorned by volcanoes and strange, furry creatures with curled horns and striped tails. The rest of the map shows a large piece of land, decorated with various mountains, lakes, and other fantastical creatures. Across the map are three sets of footprints traversing with no fixed path. The footprints cross over each other, and other times they stop and retreat in a web of patterns.

 

“And so Wheein and Hyejin travel the world together,” Byulyi read. “They travel across land and sea, and they meet all kinds of scary monsters and fantastic creatures. They had the most wonderful adventures together.

 

There were fun times, like when they bounced on bubbles in the mermaid kingdom. There were sad times, like when they had to deliver sad news to the baker’s wife. Then, there were hard times: times when they were hurt, when they starved, and times when they didn’t know what to do.

 

Still, it was the most wonderful adventures that they could ever ask for. Together, they thought they could do this forever.”

 

Byulyi cast a quick glance at her daughter, who stared at the page, for once too enraptured to speak.

 

They turned the page.

 

 

ILLUSTRATION 6:

 

On the left, Seulgi and Hyejin are fighting off a swarm of small, dragon-like creatures. On the right, Wheein has her bow drawn, but she is distracted. A big grin is plastered on her face.

 

Yoona pointed a chubby finger at Wheein. “Look at her face, mamas! She looks so happy!”

 

Yongsun snuggled into Yoona, rubbing her cheeks against her daughter’s to earn a happy squeal from the little girl. “Because she’s in love!” Yongsun declared. She wiggled her fingers into Yoona’s sides.

 

Byulyi looked on, quietly smiling as she took in the love they’d cultivated over the years, wondering how she’d gotten so lucky. Yoona’s shrieks pierced the air once more, shaking her out of her thoughts.

 

“Help me, Big Fart!” her daughter whined, amplifying Yongsun’s mother’s mischievous laugh to a full-blown cackle as she wiggled about in her grasp.

 

Byulyi huffed and pretended to be left out with a puff of her cheeks. “When you two mochi-cheeks are done, maybe we can finish reading the story.”

 

“Okay, okay,” Yongsun said, still softly snickering when Yoona deflated into her.

 

Byulyi continued to read: “Having had so many adventures, Wheein began to realize something. She was so happy that she no longer cared about the amulet.

 

Just then, having driven off the curious wyrms, Hyejin approached her. “Are you okay?” She asked.

 

Wheein looked at her worried face, her shy smile, and her brave soul. Yes, this is it, she decided with a smile, the amulet wasn’t leading her a place. It was leading her to Hyejin.”

 

“Aish, so cheesy,” Yongsun added.

 

“Shhhhh!” Yoona said. “You’re ruining the best part, Mama!”

 

Yongsun chuckled, and watched as Yoona hurriedly flipped the page, practically bouncing with anticipation.

 

 

ILLUSTRATION 7 & 8:

 

Inside a yellow-bordered box on the top left of the page, Wheein is on one knee. She is holding her feathered cap to her chest with one hand, and is holding up the amulet outstretched with the other. Hyejin receives the amulet, her expression pink and surprised.

 

On the bottom right of the page is a wedding ceremony. Confetti is in the air, and the people of the kingdom rejoice all around. In the middle are two brides in white dresses walking down the red carpet with bouquets and happy smiles.

 

ILLUSTRATION 9 & 10:

 

Inside a small, circular panel on the top right, a baby is bundled up in her mother’s arms. She is smiling, and her other mother is kissing her cheek.

 

Behind the circular panel, in an image spanning the entire page, is a sunset. The silhouettes of Hyejin and Wheein hold the hands of their daughter, who is sitting on Seulgi’s back. They are walking down a path lined with trees, their destinations unknown.

 

“It’s Sumi!” Nana cried, jabbing the baby on the page excitedly.

 

“Yes, yes, let’s finish reading,” Yongsun said. “Mama is getting sleepy.” Byulyi raised a brow at the obvious lie but did not comment. Instead, she squeezed Yoona close and rested her chin on her daughter’s head.

 

“Mama, it’s hot!” She complained, squirming in her mother’s arms.

 

Byulyi continued to read, ignoring Yoona’s cries: “Wheein gave the yellow amulet to Hyejin. ‘All this time, I had been looking for you all along.’ She professed her love on one knee, bringing the brave warrior to tears.”

 

Yongsun nodded along. “Hyejin is a softie,” She added.

 

“Soon, they were due to be wed,” Byulyi continued. “Everyone knew the famous tales of Wheein and Hyejin’s bravery. The entire kingdom arrived to wish them happiness. Even the Elf King and Elf Queen, Wheein’s parents, came with their loyal subjects. It was a big party and everyone was very happy.”

 

Yongsun continued from the next page: “Soon, they had a little girl of their own, and they named her—”

 

“Sumi!” Yoona shouted with a happy giggle.

 

“That’s right!” Yongsun smiled. “This little girl was the most important thing in the universe to the warrior and the elf, and they loved her with all of their heart.

 

New adventures awaited the Hyejin and Wheein’s family beyond the horizon. They might not always be fighting dragons and trolls, but, equipped with love, they were ready to face anything.”

 

“The end!” Yoona concluded.

 

Byulyi grinned. “Just one more thing.”

 

She flipped the page.

 

ILLUSTRATION 11:

 

The same sun sets at the centre of a white page. Before it is the same path lined with trees on either side. Silhouettes, hand-drawn with jet-black ink, are walking into the sunset: Byulyi and Yongsun on either side of Yoona, holding her hand.

 

“Oh!” Yongsun’s hand flew to her lips. “Is that—”

 

“It’s Nana!” Yoona picked up the book and leapt out of her place between her mothers, bouncing briefly on her bed before kneeling in front of them with the book open. “It’s Nana!” she repeated with a little giggle.

 

“Aish,” Yongsun pointed at the picture, “your mamas are here too. Look!”

 

“Yea-a-ah, but Nana is here,” Yoona insisted.

 

Yongsun shook her head, chuckling softly. “Aigo, Byul-ah, what have you done to our daughter?”

 

Byulyi dove forward and grabbed the shrieking Yoona by the waist, then dragging her over to her lap, where she proceeded to pinch her cheeks. “Our Princess Little Fart is so cute!” she gushed, kneading her daughter’s cheeks in spite of her cries. “Look at her, Yonggi! Can you blame her?”

 

“Mama, sto-o-o-o-o-p!”

 

“I can’t stop when Nana is so, so, so, so cute,” Byulyi said, nuzzling her cheek against the top of her daughter’s head.

 

“Mama, save me-e-e-e!”

 

Yongsun shook her head with a resigned sigh, though her smile continued to glow at the sight of her wife and daughter. Her gaze strayed to the book, which laid open on the bed where Nana had dropped it, and the silhouettes. True enough, there were years before them, adventures unknown, challenges waiting to be conquered.

 

Yoona was still young, but she was growing up faster than she liked. Yesterday, she was just a bundle. Soon, she was going to move through school, experience love, heartbreak. She was going to someday move beyond the shelter she and Byulyi had crafted so carefully around her.

 

But today... today she was here. Six years old and still full of love for her two mothers.

 

Her heart swelled, and her eyes began to well.

 

“I think it’s time to sleep, you two.”

 

 

An hour later, Byulyi and Yongsun sat in the living room with the book in Yongsun’s lap. Byulyi rested her head against Yongsun’s, and watched her idly flip through the pages for what must’ve been the twentieth time.

 

“I thought you said you were sleepy.”

 

“This book is incredible,” Yongsun said, ignoring her. Byulyi had long stopped counting the compliments, grinning instead whenever she spoke. “You’re incredible.” Yongsun turned her head slightly to plant a kiss on her wife’s head, inciting the shy giggle she loved so much. 

“So, I guess you just wanted your private Byul time?”

 

Byulyi didn’t miss the pinkish hue on her cheeks, and the almost inaudible “shut up.” She laughed, sending gentle vibrations all the way to her wife’s heart. She rested her hand on Yongsun’s stomach, snuggling further into her shoulder. Finally, Byulyi replied: “Wheein made it so much more special than I could’ve imagined for myself. The beauty of art and literature coming together…it’s really something isn’t it?  

 

“You changed so much of it,” Yongsun observed.

 

“Yeah, I’d never written a children’s book before, so I tried to make it a bit more concise. I can’t say it’s perfect, but I think I got my feelings across.”

 

“Why didn’t you ask me?”

 

Byulyi laughed. “Do you think Idiot Moon would work again?”

 

“Idiot Moon always works,” Yongsun said, nudging Byulyi’s head with her own. “Did you...ask anyone else?” Byulyi lifted her head. Yongsun returned her studious gaze with expectancy. “What? Why are you smiling like that? Stop it, it’s gross.”

 

“Nothing,” Byulyi replied, wrapping an arm around Yongsun’s middle and pulling her closer.

 

“What?” Yongsun repeated, slapping her lightly. “Stop smiling!”

 

Byulyi grinned widely into the side of her neck. “Nothing!” she murmured. “I just love it when you’re jealous. For the record, I didn’t ask anybody for help. I figured you’d forgive my mistakes because I’m a great author now, and you love me.”

 

“You’re stupid.”

 

“Stupidly in love with you.”

 

Yongsun shoved her away, playfully shouting, “You’re so greasy!” Byulyi laughed, and dramatically fell back onto the couch. As she played dead, she heard her wife huffing on the other side of the couch: “How do you still have so much grease after seven years?”

 

Byulyi sat back up, and, taking the book from her lap, she laid her head down in its place. “Yongsunssi,” she said, “how are you still so pretty after seven years?”

 

“You’re gross,” Yongsun laughed. “But I’m stupidly in love with you too.”

 

Seven years and those words still made her giddy, Byulyi thought with a lopsided grin. She reached up, touched Yongsun’s chin gently, and said, “The Idiot Moon and the Idiot Sun. Sounds like my next bestseller.”

 

Yongsun smiled softly, bending down for a comfortingly familiar kiss. “Thank you,” she whispered, as she pulled away.

 

“It was nothing,” Byulyi replied. “You should really thank Wheein.”

 

Yongsun shook her head. “Not just this,” she said, gesturing to the book on Byulyi’s stomach. She ran her hand across Byulyi’s jawline and poked her on the nose. “For everything. The last seven years, this house, our baby, our happy memories—thank you for sharing it all with me.”

 

Byulyi sat up again slowly, careful not to move too far from Yongsun’s warmth. Knee against knee now, with Yongsun’s hands in hers—it was times like these when little gestures of intimacy spoke far more than their wildest nights. Times when it was just quiet enough to admire the way her wife’s hands fit inside her own, and the way her eyes shone just for her. “What are you thinking about, Yongddoni?” Byulyi asked. “The sunset?”

 

Yongsun nodded. “And Yoona,” she confessed, “she’s getting so big, so fast. You saw her today when you came in—she’s getting rebellious too. It’s just...so much has happened...and so much will happen. Walking into the sunset and not really knowing where to go...it’s a bit scary. At the same time, this story makes me think about who I was before I met you, and the adventures we had just to get to the starting line. It’s nostalgic.” She laughed lightly. “It’s a bit stupid to think about this, isn’t it?”

 

Byulyi lifted the book between them. The picture of her family against the sunset glowed quietly under the lamplight. “It is a bit scary, I guess. It scared me just hearing that Yoona loved Sumi more than me,” Byulyi said, shaking her head. “One of these days, she’ll be the sun, and we’ll just be an orbiting outer planet. But you know what? The last seven years isn’t enough for me. I want the next ten, twenty, thirty, sixty, eighty years too. I kind of decided that by myself when I first met you. I thought, ah, if I could grow old with this girl, I’d die the happiest woman on earth. Is that selfish?”

 

“Not when you’re grinning at me like that, you big dork,” Yongsun said, laying her head on Byulyi’s shoulder. “I want that too. I want to get wrinkles and cry about Yoona and I want to fight about stupid things and make it up. All the things that grumpy old people do after they spend a hundred years together.”

 

“Good. Because you’ll always be my sun, and I’m going to keep orbiting around you forever and ever and ever.”

 

END


	15. Selfish by Moonbyul (ft. SEULGI)

“Unnie!”

 

Moon Byulyi looked up from her phone, a big smile quickly overtaking the scowl she had worn for the last half hour.

 

“Seulgi!” She cried, running up to her friend and engulfing her in a big hug.

 

“Oh dear.” Seulgi quickly pushed Byulyi back and held her at arm's length, a serious expression on her face. “Yongsun-unnie kicked you out again, didn’t she?”

 

Byulyi shifted uncomfortably under Seulgi’s intense gaze. “Uh, no.”

 

“Let me guess,” Seulgi sighed, “you kicked yourself out in protest, but she didn’t let you back in.”

 

Byulyi groaned, and pushed away her friend’s arms. “Yah! I called you out to have fun. Let’s go,” She grumbled.

 

Seulgi ran after her as she began to far-too-quickly march toward the arcade, their typical escapade whenever Byulyi called. “Unnie, did you apologize?”

 

“Yes,” Byulyi grinded out between her teeth, “of course.”

 

“Did you cry?”

 

“...No.

 

“Unnie.”

 

“No.”

 

“Unnie…”

 

Byulyi sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose with a thumb and forefinger. “Fine. Yes, I cried. I wailed against the door, but she still wouldn’t let me in. She’s mean and I hate her.”

 

Seulgi snickered. “You don’t hate her.”

 

Byulyi slapped her across the shoulder. “Whose side are you on? I mean, what kind of person can listen to their girlfriend cry and apologize and say she loves you without batting an eyelash?”

 

They arrived inside the arcade and greeted the owner, by now a friendly acquaintance, with a bow. Seulgi stuck a hand inside the pocket of her jacket and pulled out some change. “Probably the kind of person who does this almost every week?” she said nonchalantly.

 

Byulyi followed her toward the dance machine and popped in a few coins.

 

“As much as I like spending time with you, unnie,” Seulgi continued, “even Irene-unnie started asking me where I go every week.”

 

Byulyi looked up from the song selection screen for a moment to study her best friend. Embarrassed, Seulgi slammed the OK button and started up whichever song Byulyi had been hovering on.

 

Byulyi assumed her place with a smirk and easily hit the first few arrows that rose up. “So, you’re saying that she’s finally noticed you, huh?” Though her eyes remained glued to the screen, she could perfectly picture the rosy blush colouring Seulgi’s face whenever they mentioned her beautiful flatmate. “I’m surprise it has taken this long, but I knew you could do it.”

 

She reached over to give her friend a slap on the shoulder, narrowly missing a beat and breaking her combo, but it was worth it just to hear her friend whine.

 

“Unni-i-i-e, stop teasing me!” Seulgi cried. “I came out to have fun with you and help you forget about your problems, and this is how you repay me.”

 

“Don’t pout, Seul,” Byulyi laughed. “Thank you for coming out to meet me. I love you.”

 

Seulgi made a face, and swiped at her bangs as the song came to an end. “You’re gross, unnie.”

 

“Really though,” Byulyi said, her eyes on the screen as she properly picked a song this time, “What did she say? Did she look angry?”

 

Seulgi pulled her hair up into pigtails as Byulyi flipped indecisively between songs. “I don’t...think so. Anyway, this isn’t about me!”

 

Byulyi ignored her and pressed the button to play. “It’s been like four months since she moved in,” she said with a grin, “I want my Seulbear to have her happy ever after. Did she like the cookies you made last time?”

 

“Jeez, unnie, stop teasing me.”

 

“Are you blushing? Please tell me you’re blushing.”

 

“Aish, just play the game!”

 

“But the cookies—”

 

“She liked them. She said it was s-sweet.”

 

Byulyi stopped, effectively missing the next few seconds of commands and sending her health bar into a plummet.

 

“Unnie,” Seulgi cried, her feet moving in frenzied panic, “what are you doing? I can’t keep you alive—a-a-ah, I’m not good at this! Oh dear—ah! Unnie, please—Ah...game over.” Seulgi leaned back against the U-shaped handlebar with a deep sigh, and wiped the sweat off her brow with the back of her hand. “What the heck…we lost…” she groaned, dramatically throwing her arms out. “Why did you do that?”

 

“Irene called you sweet.”

 

“What? No, she said the cookie was sweet.”

 

Byulyi punched her lightly on the shoulder. “Obviously, cookies are sweet. Knowing you, you probably misheard, you silly bear,” Byulyi’s smile widened into a mischievous grin. “Irene is into you. We are going to have double dates. I’m going to be a bridesmaid.”

 

“You’re jumping too far!” Seulgi said, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. “I don’t even have the courage to tell her how pretty she is.”

 

“Seul-ah, you’re always saying things without thinking. I’m sure you’ll slip up and tell her someday.”

 

“Unnie, that’s mean!” Seulgi cried. “I wish I could have your courage. You’re so brave, unnie.”

 

Byulyi scoffed. “If I was brave, I wouldn’t be here.”

 

Seulgi toed the down arrow of the dance machine with her sneaker. “You confessed to Yongsun-unnie though. I could never do that.”

 

“Oh, Seul,” Byulyi said, pushing her hair back. “You will.” She struck a pose with a hand on her hip and her finger pointed to the sky, high above her head, “the power of love compels you! And then!” She lowered her arm and pointed straight at Seulgi’s nose. “You’re going to ask her out and she’s going to say yes and then you’ll have beautiful little bear children. Oh! And we’re going to have double dates.”

 

“Unni-i-i-ie, sto-o-o-o-op…”

 

Seulgi groaned and shuffled off the platform, covering her ears as she headed toward the row of claw machines. But the older girl wouldn’t let up—she tugged at her shirt and went on: “Or! She’s going to ask you out, and you’re going to say yes, we’re going to have double dates, and then you’ll have beautiful little bear children, and I’m going to be a godmother. You should name one of your kids Daebakkie.”

 

“Unnie, you’re so annoying today,” Seulgi moaned. “And why would I name my child after your dog?”

 

“Well, technically it would be named after that soccer player’s kid.”

 

Byulyi pulled out a few coins from her jacket and handed a few to Seulgi, who took them with a quick thank you and turned around to give the claw machine a shot.

 

“Anyway,” Seulgi mumbled, “I don’t even know if Irene-unnie likes kids.”

 

“Well, she likes you, so…”

 

“Hey! I’m not a kid! You’re the one who loves the arcade so much. She doesn’t...she doesn’t think I’m a kid either! B-because I’m an adult!”

 

She glanced back over her shoulder. Usually, Byulyi would have turned her attention on the claw machine behind her by now, but instead she met her eyes with the most delighted grin on her face.

 

“Oh, my dear friend, you are so whipped.”

 

“You’re the whipped one,” Seulgi pouted. She turned back to her machine and started the game, smiling to herself quietly when she heard Byulyi do the same.

 

“Ugh, you’re right.”

 

They played in silence for a few minutes as they fiddled with the joystick to get the angle just right. The claws descended, one after another, followed by the mumbled encouragement of their respective players. “Come on, come on, come on,” Byulyi whispered under her breath. “Damn it!”

 

“No luck either,” Seulgi said with a sigh. “Round two?”

 

Byulyi nodded and received a few coins from Seulgi with an open palm.

 

“So what happened anyway with Yongsun-unnie?” Seulgi asked as she started up her game.

 

Byulyi twisted her joystick around in frustration before actually inserting money into the machine. “Just my usual stupidity.”

 

Seulgi nodded and hummed. “Did you shrink her favourite shirt again?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Did you slam the door in her face?”

 

“That was one time!”

 

“Did you—“

 

“No, I didn’t use all her lotion.”

 

Seulgi paused. “How did you know I was going to ask?”

 

“You always ask.”

 

“I really like her lotion,” she mumbled. “It smells nice.”

 

“I’ll get you a bottle for your birthday.”

 

Seulgi whipped around. “Really, unnie?”

 

Byulyi laughed, though she did not take her eyes off the prize her claw was hovering over. “You’re so easy to please.”

 

“That’s what Irene-unnie said too.”

 

“What?” In a moment of shock, Byulyi’s finger slipped, sending the claw down to grab the empty air. “Oh no, oh no. No-o-o-o!” She cried, pressing both hands against the glass. “I was so close…”

 

“Anyway,” Seulgi said quickly, not wanting to be interrogated for her momentary slip-up, “what really happened with Yongsun-unnie?”

 

Byulyi hugged the machine, seemingly in tears. Seulgi shook her head and tapped her on the shoulder. While they had been talking, she managed to dredge up a round stuffed hamster, and she couldn’t help but laugh at the way the older girl lit up when she held her prize out in front of her.

 

“Can I really have this?”

 

“Only if you tell me what’s wrong!”

 

“Aish, Seulbear is so cheeky now.”

 

Seulgi stuck out her tongue, but dropped the stuffed animal into Byulyi’s open arms anyway. “Thank you,” Byulyi said. She squeezed the hamster close and grinned.

 

Seulgi stretched her arms out behind her, puffing out her chest in a moment of pride, and mirrored her smile. “Now you have to tell me what happened, unnie.”

 

“Let’s go outside.”

 

“Unni-i-i-i-ie!”

 

Byulyi went outside with the hamster pressed against her chest. On her way out, she picked up a lollipop and left some money on the counter—she had seen the owner wrestling with some boxes in the back, and decided not to bother him.

 

“Here,” she said, handing Seulgi the big rainbow lollipop as they crossed the threshold.

 

“Thank you, unnie.” Seulgi held onto it with a childlike grin. She straightened out the clear plastic wrapper, then carefully placed it on top of the old arcade machine outside.

 

The lollipop had become their tradition whenever Byulyi called her out here. It was the simplest expression of gratitude, but Seulgi appreciated it nonetheless. The first time she received a lollipop from Byulyi, she’d ripped off the wrapper and jammed it into her mouth without a second thought, which resulted in several severe losses in Street Fighter when the sticky sweetness made her mouth increasingly uncomfortable.

 

Since that time, she began collecting the lollipops and taking them home with her, where she now had a growing bouquet. There were only four of them in her vase at home, but Seulgi hoped to one day gift all of them back to Byulyi when she eventually had the courage to ask Yongsun to marry her.

 

In spite of all the times Byulyi called her out here to sulk, she knew from the very bottom of her heart that they loved each other entirely. Seulgi didn’t know much about love, but she knew that the way they looked at each other was something very special, and she often found herself wishing somebody would look at her the same way. Somebody with straight black hair, perhaps, and a gaze that struck something terrifying and wonderful within her.

 

She shook her head and returned Byulyi’s quizzical glance with a shy smile.

 

“Best of three?” Byulyi asked. Seulgi nodded.

 

“Can I be Chun-Li this time?” Seulgi asked.

 

Byulyi raised a brow. “You know we can both be Chun-Li right?”

 

“Yeah, but it’s not fun.”

 

“Alright, alright,” Byulyi chuckled. “I’ll be Ryu.”

 

Halfway through the first round, Byulyi knocked Seulgi’s health down just far enough to fool around on her side of the screen. Her character jumped and squatted again and again as Seulgi, the tip of her tongue poking out from the side of her mouth in deep concentration, fired projectile after projectile. When none of her blue fireballs landed, she sighed and joined Byulyi in jumping around the screen.

 

“So, when are you going to tell me what happened with Yongsun-unnie?” Seulgi asked.

 

Byulyi’s eyes didn’t leave the screen. “I ate her cake.”

 

Seulgi stopped. “What? That’s it?”

 

“She bought a cake this morning and I ate it all.”

 

“Without her?”

 

“Without her.”

 

Chun-Li leapt up and kicked Ryu in the head.

 

“That’s cheap!” Byulyi cried. “Take this! Hadouken! Hadouken! Ha!”

 

“You’re cheap!” Seulgi yelled back, easily maneuvering Chun-Li out of the way. “Why would you eat all of Yongsun-unnie’s cake?”

 

“It wasn’t a very big cake. I was just hungry, and Yeba went out and left me alone with a cake.”

 

“That doesn’t mean you should eat it all!” Chun-Li fired off another fireball, which was promptly blocked.

 

Ryu jumped back to his corner of the screen, ducking when Byulyi said, “Oh, that’s not the worst part.”

 

“Oh no…”

 

“It’s our anniversary today. But I forgot. And I ate our anniversary cake.”

 

Seulgi stood up in horror. “UNNIE,” she cried. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

 

Byulyi looked up uneasily. “Um, winning this game?” She sent Ryu forward, landing several moves and knocking Chun-Li out—an easy feat considering Seulgi was still standing with her hands on her hips, looking as disapproving as ever.

 

“Unnie…”

 

“What?”

 

“You know that I really admire you, right?”

 

Byulyi stood slowly. “Well, thanks?” she said, sheepishly rubbing the back of her neck.

 

“I think you’re really cool. You’re not afraid to be yourself, and you’re not afraid to do whatever you want.”

 

“You’re going to give me a big head, Seul,” Byulyi chuckled nervously at the intensity of Seulgi’s expression.

 

“But sometimes,” Seulgi continued, crossing her arms, “and I hope you’ll forgive me for saying this, unnie, but sometimes, you can be really, really, really dumb.”

 

“W-wha—”

 

Seulgi placed both hands on Byulyi’s shoulders, and took a deep breath. “Unnie,” she said slowly, “Go buy a cake, go home to Yongsun-unnie, and apologize.” She leaned in a little closer, and looked her dead in the eyes. “Please.”

 

Byulyi pulled back and shoved her hands into her pockets. “I-I don’t know. It’s not that easy.”

 

“We’re going to the bakery,” Seulgi declared, grabbing her by the elbow. “You’re going to buy a cake, and you’re going to apologize.”

 

“Seul, wait,” Byulyi said. She dragged her feet to a stop, and gently pried Seulgi’s hand off her elbow. “Wait. I don’t...I don’t have any more money.”

 

Seulgi dug into her own pockets and flipped them inside out. Finding them empty, she looked up—horrified. “Me neither.”

 

Byulyi slapped a hand on her forehead. “You’re right. I’m such an idiot,” she laughed, just loud enough to garner a quick glance from an old woman passing by. “The kind of idiot who not only forgets her own anniversary, but eats a whole damn cake by herself, then runs away from her problems. This has to be the worst anniversary ever, Seul. I can’t even believe how dumb I am. You’ve really outdone yourself this time, Moon Byulyi.”

 

Seulgi tugged at Byulyi’s sleeve. “It’s not too late, unnie. Maybe you can make a cake?”

 

“It’s hopeless…” Byulyi groaned. “I suck.”

 

“Ah! I just remembered!” Suddenly, she ran back toward the store. Byulyi watched as she jogged up to the old arcade machine, then jogged back with the stuffed hamster she had left on a stool beside the machine. “Here!”

 

Byulyi held out both hands and received the hamster along with the lollipop she had given to Seulgi earlier. “You forgot these,” Seulgi said, grinning broadly. “Lasts longer than a cake, right?”

 

Her vision began to blur with unshed tears before Byulyi knew how to react. “Seul…” She mumbled into the top of the hamster’s head. “What would I do without you?” 

 

Seulgi laughed, and slapped her on the arm. “Go home, unnie! Yongsun-unnie is waiting for you.”

 

Byulyi rushed forward and squeezed her friend in a tight hug, sniffling loudly against her ear as she pulled away. Seulgi cringed, but could not help smiling all the same.

 

“Fighting!” Seulgi said.

 

“Fighting!” She echoed. Then, with one last nod, she sprinted off in the direction of home, smiling as she pictured her love at the door.

 

Moon Byulyi might not be perfect—she might mess up from time to time—but she loved Yongsun more than anything, and she hoped that would be enough.

 

As she ran up the block with sweat dripping off her brow, Byulyi wondered if Yongsun would like the hamster and the lollipop. She wondered if she could forgive her, and if she could keep on forgiving her for every mistake she was bound to make in the future.

 

Breathless, she knocked on the door.

 

Long moments passed.

 

Finally, Kim Yongsun, queen of her heart, eyes rimmed with red opened the door and crossed her arms. “I’ve been waiting for you, you stupid fart.”

 

“I love you.”

 

Yongsun opened the door and reached up for a kiss. “I love you too,” she murmured into her lips. “Even though you make me mad sometimes.”

 

Byulyi pulled away, grinning broadly, held up her gift. “But I got you a hamster,” she declared proudly.

 

Yongsun pulled her inside and closed the door, pinning Byulyi down with a tight embrace.

 

“You’re stupid,” she mumbled against Byulyi’s neck, squeezing the hamster between them. “But I love it.”

 

Byulyi’s foolishly large grin widened, wrinkling the muscles around her nose.

 

“Happy anniversary.”

 

—-

 

As Seulgi walked into her shared apartment that day, she wondered if she would ever find the courage to live as freely and recklessly as Byulyi did. She wondered if she would one day experience these little games that lovers sometimes played. She wondered if she would be good at keeping track of anniversaries. Briefly, she pictured how wonderful it would be if she and Byulyi shared the same anniversary with their partners. Impossible as it seemed, she wouldn’t mind going on double dates with her favourite unnie.

 

“Welcome home, Seulgi.”

 

The vision of Irene—standing at the counter beneath the yellow kitchen light with a coffee mug in her hand and her glasses perched on the tip of her nose—halted all of her thoughts.

 

“I-Irene-unnie,” Seulgi mumbled, bowing clumsily in greeting.

 

“Is something wrong? You look a little red.” Irene placed her coffee mug on the counter and walked toward her, a worried expression knitted in her brows. Gingerly, she placed a hand on Seulgi’s forehead, unknowingly accelerating the younger girl’s heart beyond the threshold of normal. “You’re not sick, are you?”

 

Seulgi quivered, racking her brain for a coherent reply when, before she knew what was happening, she said, “Unnie, I think I’m in love with you.”

 

Irene froze, then slowly dropped her hand.

 

“S-Seulgi…I…”

 

Seulgi blushed, her ears burning as she buried her face in her hands. “I’m sorry!” She cried, her voice muffled against her palm. “I didn’t mean to say that. Sometimes I just say things without thinking—ah Byulyi-unnie was right—I’m so embarrassed.”

 

“Seulgi, it’s okay,” Irene said gently. She lowered her hands from her face, and tilted her chin up with a smile. “I’m...very happy to hear that.”

 

Seulgi’s lower lip quivered, her heart soaring as Irene pulled her into a hug.

 

Maybe those double dates weren’t so impossible after all.


	16. Double Trouble Couple by MAMAMOO

 

Dear Diary,

 

I saw the most extraordinary thing today while I was at work. I’ve been thinking about getting a new job lately since passing out flyers can be kind of boring, but I like being outside and being able to talk to people. Sometimes you see the strangest things! Today, I saw a girl from across the street. We’re working near a park for a few weeks, and there’s a nice paved path under the trees there, and this girl...she was walking a cat.

 

Not only was she walking a cat, but the cat was on a little blue skateboard with yellow wheels. How cute is that?

 

I have so many questions!! It’s too bad I was working…ah, who am I kidding? Talking to strangers is way too scary. I wish I took a picture though! Byul teased me when I said I’d run up and steal her cat. She said I’d just explode from embarrassment and scare the cat away.

 

That girl is so rude.

 

Anyway, I have to wake up early tomorrow because stupid Byul needs me to go with her to get a birthday cake for Daebakkie, so I’ll stop here today.

 

* * *

 

Dear Diary,

 

The girl with the cat walked by again today!! Actually, something really funny happened. I probably shouldn’t laugh, but since they don’t know me, it’s okay right?

 

The girl was dragging the skateboard along with the cat on it, when all of a sudden, something scared the cat, and it went flying across the grass. She ran after the cat, shouting and not really looking where she was going, and she ended up knocking over a girl in roller skates! I think they found the cat in the end, but it must’ve been really embarrassing to be sprawled over a stranger like that…

 

Oh! We had a little birthday party for Daebakkie today! Byul cried a little.

 

I hope the cat girl is okay...the roller skates girl seemed really angry.

 

* * *

 

Dear Diary,

 

My boss yelled at me for spacing out at work, and I wasn’t very happy about it. Byul called me at lunch to check up on me—she can be very sweet when she’s not being rude or stupid after all. She picked me up from work and we got ttokbokki, so I’m happy now.

 

The girl with the cat came today also! She did not bring a skateboard this time. Hopefully nobody stole it after yesterday’s disaster. Roller skates girl was at the park as well. I noticed she was very pretty today—maybe I didn’t notice it yesterday since she seemed kind of scary? She has the wildest black hair and the reddest lips and the shortest shorts. She really could be a celebrity!

 

Anyway, she skated by and exchanged a few words with the cat girl, then zipped off. The weird thing was that I saw them looking at each over over the shoulder. It was like a real life drama!! I am suddenly even more anxious to see them every day to see how this story unfolds.

 

Will there be a good looking childhood best friend who’s also in love with one of them?? Will one of them be leaving? Terminal illness, maybe?

 

Oops, I just woke Byul up. She called me stupid. So rude. What do I do? This is just too exciting to keep to myself! Aish, I guess I should sleep before she wakes up again. Good night, Diary!

 

* * *

 

Dear Diary,

 

Update: I’m almost 100% sure Roller Girl likes Cat Girl. I’m not completely sure how Cat Girl feels yet, because she seems very shy.

 

Both of them were in the park today at the same time. The cat was in a basket this time—it was so cute!! Anyway, I saw Roller Girl first while I was handing out fliers. She was sitting by the fountain talking to a friend when she suddenly bolted across the park. I was talking to a customer, so I didn’t see everything, but I think Cat Girl was pretty surprised.

 

After the customer left, I noticed they were walking around kind of nervously. Apparently Roller Girl scared the cat out of his basket. Every time I looked over, Roller Girl either looked very guilty or like she was trying to make Cat Girl laugh. They’re seriously too cute.

 

In other news, Byul made me apply to the doggy daycare center down near the park. She said she didn’t want me doing this when winter comes, but I think that dork worries too much. I mean, it’s only spring right now.

 

* * *

 

Dear Diary,

 

Today is Saturday, and I don’t have work, but I wanted to go to the park to see if they were there. Byul says I watch too many dramas, and I’m probably making things up, so I want to prove her wrong. Besides, Jjing Jjing and Daebak are getting fat because we’ve been so busy.

 

We saw Roller Girl—I nearly threw Byul into the fountain because I was so excited—but she wasn’t wearing her skates. She was just kind of...walking around. I told Byul about this and…

 

THE IDIOT DID SOMETHING REALLY, REALLY STUPID. I’m still mad just thinking about it!! I really don’t understand what she’s thinking sometimes…

 

Listen to this, Diary… after I pointed Roller Girl out to Byul, she asked if even likes girls. I told her I didn’t know, but I was sure she liked Cat Girl. She didn’t say anything and looked kind of skeptical, and I thought, “That’s okay. I know the truth!” BUT SUDDENLY, she took my hand and JUST AS ROLLER GIRL LOOKED OVER, she kissed me!! IN PUBLIC. IN FRONT OF EVERYONE AT THE PARK.

 

I was so flustered I didn’t even get a chance to look at her face.

 

Byul said she looked amused—I punched her. I felt better after punching her, but I still pretended to be mad so she’d buy me ice cream. (Works every time!)

 

We went to a pottery class today too! We made matching couple mugs! It was really hard, and I don’t want to admit this, but I think Byul was better at it than me...so I made her finish mine so I can paint it. They turned out really nice!

 

Tomorrow we’re going to stay inside and have a good day watching TV and eating snacks. Can’t wait! See you on Monday, Diary!

 

* * *

 

Dear Diary,

 

ROLLER GIRL TALKED TO ME TODAY. I was at work, and she took a flyer from me. I wasn’t really paying attention BUT THEN MY HEART JUST DROPPED. All she said was thank you but she was looking at me like she knew me. Like she recognized me and she _knows._

 

Diary, I felt like my favourite character in a drama was confronting me about snooping around their private life—and she didn’t even say anything! She just has that _look_.

 

I saw her a few times around the park. She was looking at me a few times too. I wonder if she was looking for Cat Girl. Oh...maybe she knows that _I_ know she’s looking for Cat Girl!  
  


* * *

 

Dear Diary,

 

Byulyi caught a cold, so I stayed home today to take care of her. We cuddled our dogs and watched movies and took a nap. I made some soup too, but the whiny baby wanted ice cream, so I yelled at her until she ate her soup.

 

There is some kind of festival happening in the park tomorrow...I hope it won’t be too crowded. Byul is probably going to be sad about missing it, so I’m going to try to win a stuffed animal for her. Wish me luck, Diary!

 

* * *

 

Dear Diary,

 

I finished handing out all of my flyers today very early, so I was allowed to leave early too! Thank you, festival! They started setting up so early in the morning that it was already in full swing by the time I got to work. Lots of people came, and the atmosphere was so exciting!

 

I ran into Irene and Seulgi at the festival and joined them for lunch. The three of us video-called Byul, who was really adorably bundled up (in _my_ couch blanket)! And that was a lot of fun!

 

The most _exciting_ part, though...I ran into Cat Girl! She was walking around by herself with her cat _on_ her shoulders. Can you believe that, Diary?! I wanted to say hello, but I chickened out. I kind of wished Byul was there...if she teased me enough I might actually try to say hello. Though she got a LOT of comments from people while she walked around, and she looked kind of uncomfortable.

 

As if that wasn’t exciting enough, I saw Roller Girl too! She was with a few people getting skewers, and I overheard a tall guy calling her Hyejin. I finally learned her name! PROGRESS! Byul called me a gossipy ahjumma when I told her, but I’m already ten episodes into this drama, and I need to see the ending!! She just doesn’t understand, hmph!

 

I hope Hyejin and Cat Girl found each other. They both had wandering eyes—please let the young lovers find each other!!

 

Oh! They had some games set up at the festival with teddy bears. As it turned out, I am amazing at basketball. If I don’t hear back from the daycare job tomorrow, I’m going to try out for the NBA… Okay, Byul just looked over at my diary (while holding the teddy bear I worked so hard to win!) and laughed. I guess I will go punch her now. See you tomorrow, Diary!

 

* * *

 

Dear Diary,

 

I think I caught Byulyi’s cold. After the festival yesterday, she insisted on snuggling into me and attacking me with gross, snotty kisses to thank me for the teddy bear. It was cute at the time, but now I’m kind of mad. I kicked her out of the house this morning, and she ended up going to the arcade with Seulgi.

 

BUT! She had the good sense to bring home some congee for me after a while, so I couldn’t stay mad.

 

THERE IS AN EXCITING PART TO THIS! Byul ran into Hyejin at the congee restaurant!! She works there!! And the most, MOST exciting part? She recognized Byul from the day at the park! From the super smug face Byul had when she told me this, she probably became friends with her too. I bugged her about this, but she’s being kind of secretive. I think they _might_ be sending messages to each other… Stupid, smelly Byul is keeping this to herself!! Can you believe that?

 

It would be just perfect if Cat Girl becomes my friend. If that happens, I will definitely rub it in Byul’s face.

 

* * *

 

Dear Diary,

 

I went back to work today, and I saw Cat Girl! She brought a blanket to the park this time, and I think she was writing or drawing something. The cat was on his skateboard—good to know it wasn’t stolen!

 

I wanted to take my lunch over there and see if I could join her, but while I was walking over (after maybe 30 minutes of yelling at myself to be brave), HYEJIN APPEARED. I saw her skate by the fountain and immediately brighten up at the sight of Cat Girl. She stopped in front of her for a bit and chatted for a while. I was just kind of awkwardly standing around, so I went to find a park bench to eat my lunch. By the time I found one facing the park (where I can watch my drama!), Hyejin was sitting on the blanket beside Cat Girl with the cat in her lap, laughing at something someone said. IT WAS SO CUTE.

 

From my bench, I could see that Cat Girl was sketching (not writing), and after a while she seemed to be drawing a portrait of Hyejin.

 

Diary, they are so cute. I hope they end up together soon. My heart can’t wait. And now Byul is giving me weird looks from across the room, so she definitely knows I’m writing about my favourite Cat Girl/Roller Girl couple. Hold on, she’s making me get up off the couch so she could tell me something. Stupid Byul.

 

OH MY GOD. BYUL REALLY DOES HAVE HYEJIN’S PHONE NUMBER. AND THEY’VE BEEN CHATTING SINCE YESTERDAY. I feel betrayed. BUT—I did get some very juicy character development (because if Byul knows that if she hides this from me any longer, I’m definitely beating her up).

 

Cat Girl’s name is Wheein, and Hyejin is definitely, definitely, _definitely_ in love with her.

 

* * *

 

Dear Diary,

 

Neither Hyejin nor Wheein showed up at the park today, but while I was zoning out at work, I did a lot of thinking. I’m such a sucker for romance movies sometimes that I forget what real life is like. I think I’ve been a little bit intense about Hyejin and Wheein recently, and I think I know why.

 

I was sitting at breakfast with Byul this morning and just kind of...staring at her face. She was checking her phone, so she didn’t notice me staring, but I stared at her for a very long time. I don’t know why, but I just couldn’t get enough of her face even though I see it every day. It just makes me so happy, you know? I think we were really lucky, and I just want this for other people too. Everyone deserves this!

 

I guess now that I’m feeling better, I’m just suddenly full of love.

 

I’m a little jealous that Byul and Hyejin are friends now. I wish I could be Hyejin and Wheein’s friend too. I want to know how love makes them happy, and I want to teach them to take care of each other and stuff. I don’t know.

 

Maybe I’m just a gossipy ahjumma.

 

* * *

 

Dear Diary,

 

Sorry I missed the last two days. Byul and I had a very busy weekend because her family came over for a surprise visit. Mother-in-law makes me very anxious. What can I do to make her like me?? They want to do a big family trip to Byul’s grandmother’s place...it sounds like a disaster if you ask me. I never thought I’d look forward to Monday so much!

 

The WheeJin saga continues! Well, sort of. Wheein was drawing at the park today with her cat in a basket, but Hyejin didn’t show up. I might be biased, but I don’t think I imagined Wheein’s wandering eyes today. Soooo there might be a 75% chance that Wheein likes Hyejin too?

 

We’re going to the noraebang in a few minutes with Irene and Seulgi. After this weekend, I think I really need this. Fighting!!

 

* * *

 

Dear Diary,

 

WHEEIN TALKED TO ME TODAY. It’s getting weirder and weirder now because Byul has been talking to Hyejin, and I feel like I know everything about these strangers (even if 85% of what I know is what I’ve made up in my head) EXCEPT THEY DON’T KNOW ME.

 

I had a job interview today at the dog daycare place, and I ran into Wheein at the pet store next door, and _SHE_ was the one who approached ME. I was picking up Jjing’s food when, all of a sudden, I hear someone say, “Excuse me, do you work near a park?” MY HEART FLEW OUT OF MY CHEST—I FELT LIKE I WAS CAUGHT IN A CRIME. I turned around as cool as possible and we exchanged a little bow and I said yes.  
  
  


THEN SHE ASKS ME, “Do you distribute flyers?” I couldn’t even speak, so I just nodded. It’s crazy, but I felt a little starstruck.

 

Then, she asks, “I think I see you almost every day.”

 

I didn’t know what to do, so I just nodded and made up some excuse about my dog’s nonexistent nail appointment and ran away. I feel a little bad because I must’ve been a bit rude, but WHY IS SHE SO BOLD? That completely changes the character I had in mind or her!!

 

Stupid Moonfart laughed when I told her. SHE’S LAUGHING RIGHT NOW. I need to write in the bathroom or something so she’d stop snooping...then again, even the bathroom might not stop her.

 

* * *

 

Dear Diary,

 

It was very hot today, so work was not fun at all. It’s a bit hard to smile when your face feels like it’s melting into all of your makeup. After lunch today, I actually fainted for a moment, and now Byul is making me wear a water bottle around my neck when I work. It’s heavy and kind of ugly, but it definitely works…

 

The other thing is that Wheein approached me at work this time (almost at the end of my shift so she, thankfully, was not around for my dramatic fainting episode)! I was a little more prepared since I could see her coming from far away, but I was still very nervous. She apologized for making me uncomfortable last time, which I thought was very sweet of her, and I wanted to lie, but I ended up telling the truth and saying that I was surprised by her boldness.

 

She laughed at this, and her laugh was...joyful...and very loud. AND DO YOU KNOW WHAT SHE SAID NEXT, DIARY? She said she approached me because SHE WANTED TO DRAW A PORTRAIT OF ME. She said I’m very pretty. SHE CALLED ME PRETTY.

 

ALSO _SHE_ IS VERY PRETTY UP CLOSE. Wheein has a dimple, which I’d somehow never noticed because I was too busy cheering her on.

 

Byul was very happy for me when I told her. Usually, she doesn’t really care, but I guess I’ll take whatever victories I can get! And she said she wasn’t surprised someone wanted to capture my beauty “because your beauty is enough to inspire symphonies.”

  
She can be so gross sometimes.…………...but I love it.

 

* * *

 

Dear Diary,

 

You’ll never guess what happened today. After work today, I met Wheein in the park to pose for my sketch, AND HYEJIN CAME BY TO SAY HI. IT WAS SUCH AN OUT-OF-BODY EXPERIENCE, DIARY. (Her roller skates are actually pink with bright pink wheels. This whole time I thought they were white! It feels like reality and fantasy merging together...)

 

The way they looked at each other… I felt so… happy? For them? I felt like a third-wheel, but the happiest third wheel in the world, if that makes sense.

 

Anyway, Hyejin stayed with us, then we had ice cream after. It was surreal. While we were walking to the ice cream shop, I was almost positive that Hyejin reached for Wheein’s hand. I remember this very well because my heart was beating really hard and I really wanted it to happen, BUT SHE GOT SCARED.

 

Do you know that feeling when the couple you’re cheering for is almost together, and you’re sitting at your TV yelling at the screen, BUT SOMETHING ALWAYS HOLDS THEM BACK?

 

I wanted to shout, “JUST KISS ALREADY,” but that would have been a very, very, very uncomfortable situation.

 

My personal hardships aside, those two are really fun to hang out with. Whether they notice or not, they have such _chemistry_ , and they’re just so funny. Wheein was a bit shy in the beginning (she said it took a lot of courage to talk to me the other day), but once she felt more relaxed, she’s really a lot of fun. I feel like I could really easily talk to these two even though I’m usually so bad with strangers. Maybe it helps that I sort of know them already (even if they weren’t aware)?

 

Oh! And Wheein is an illustrator! She’s currently working on a children’s book set in a park, which is why she has been drawing there. So hardworking!

 

* * *

 

Dear Diary,  
  
I GOT THE JOB! I’m going to give my boss my resignation letter tomorrow. Ahhh, Diary, I’m going to miss my daily episode of the Wheesa saga. I called Byul as soon as I got the news, and she’s going to treat me to dinner tonight! We’re going out for Japanese food later. Right now she’s taking a nap across from me, and she’s so cute.

 

I feel like I’m getting very close to the end of the saga. I think Wheein and Hyejin are friends now? I sent Wheein a message asking if she had Hyejin’s number as a test, but she said she doesn’t. I asked Byul if I should try to hurry things up by getting their phone numbers for each other, but she told me not to.

 

I’m happy that Byul seems to understand romance when it comes to the both of us, BUT WHY CAN’T SHE UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH I NEED TO SEE WHEEIN AND HYEJIN GET TOGETHER?

 

Am I asking too much, Diary?

 

* * *

 

Dear Diary,

 

I am writing a second entry today...because...well...how do I begin?

 

I just got home. Byul is just washing up right now, and I’m...sitting in the living room trying to find the words for you, Diary. I guess I’ll start from the beginning.

 

Byul took me out to dinner today to celebrate my new job at the doggie daycare. We went to Japanese restaurant her coworker recommended, and when we got there, _Hyejin and Wheein were there_. Not just in the restaurant, but AT our table. Byul’s “coworker” turned out to be Hyejin herself. And they were not just sitting at our table, they were sitting at our table _holding hands_.

 

Diary, Hyejin and Wheein have been dating for a FOUR WHOLE DAYS, and STUPID BUTTHEAD BYUL KEPT IT A SECRET FROM ME.

 

I could not believe it...and not to mention, I was so embarrassed!! Thankfully, Byul didn’t fully expose how much I was cheering them on. I have to give her some credits for downplaying everything and introducing me as “the girlfriend who just really wants to meet you.” Byul is safe for another night. Still, I was not ready for this!!

 

Apparently, while I was worrying about my mother-in-law, Wheein and Hyejin were progressing their storyline without me knowing! On that day, Wheein was drawing in the park, and she was halfway home when a passing car scared her cat out of his basket and he took off running down the street, too fast for her to grab his leash, and she ended up running three blocks after him, when she suddenly turned a corner and ran into somebody.

 

Diary, I am shivering as I retell this story, because it is SO CUTE.

 

Of course that somebody was Hyejin!! They got a little scratched up, but they laughed it off and searched for the cat together (his name is Ggomo, by the way—like the yoghurt! ISN’T THAT CUTE?). Even though Wheein was very worried, they found him, and then...AND THEN HYEJIN JUST CONFESSED! Just like that!! She said something like, “I really like you. Do you want to get a drink with me?”

 

Hyejin is so cool. Seriously.

 

I can’t believe my drama ended without me knowing. It’s like missing the last episode. AN EPISODE THAT CAN NEVER BE WATCHED. Okay, okay, I’m overreacting. They’re entitled to their private moment. They’re just...so... _cute_. But it’s okay—they were really cute during the dinner. They’re still shy, so they just held hands and looked kind of uncomfortable around me and Byul (it probably doesn’t help that Byul is very affectionate and, well, after five years, she _really_ stopped caring).

 

I’m so happy. SO HAPPY. I just really can’t believe these last few weeks. We made new friends! Who would’ve thought? And these two… Byul says they remind her of us, but I think we’re two different shades of adorable, you know?

 

Oh, Byul is coming out now. I don’t know why, but I suddenly really want to hug her and tell her I love her and how happy she makes me, so I think I’ll do that.

 

Until next time, Diary!

 

**End.**


	17. Elevator Love Letter by Stars

  

_I'm so hard for a rich girl  
My heels are high, my eyes cast low  
Cause I don't know how to love _  
_I get too tired after midday lately_  
I take it out on my good friends  
But the worst stays in  
Or where would I begin?

 

 

It must’ve begun on a Monday morning, though I didn’t make my discovery until Monday night. I was looking for something in my purse, a lipstick maybe, to touch up on my way home. What I found instead was a little orange envelope with my name, Ahn Hyejin, carefully crafted in rounded letters. The envelope was sealed with a sticker of a happy banana. I couldn’t tell you what compelled me to do this, but I brought it to my nose, and smelled the sticker. Sure enough—it smelled like marshmallow-sweet bananas.

I opened it carefully, like something could jump out of the envelope in an elaborate prank. I could think of at least five people in my company who would enjoy a good laugh at my expense—I’m sure there were more than five if I bothered to learn anybody’s names. I don’t think I’m a terrible boss or anything—I have a lot to prove, so I keep to myself. If anything, it was the fact that I had that penthouse office that drove people away. I know how those old geezers saw me: a little girl with a silver spoon, green around the edges. My father must’ve put me on the throne above them to spite them. It’s always about them, isn’t it?

They don’t see the little girl who spent her life chasing her daddy’s love, trying to swim against the disappointment and trying to survive the crushing expectations.

That’s why I was convinced this was a joke. I pulled the letter out of the envelope and unfolded the neatly creased quarters. It was just a single page.

“Dear Miss Ahn,

I see you every morning in the elevator, but I don’t know how to approach you. You’re so beautiful and I’m nobody, yet I find myself thinking about you all the time. Is that okay? I hope one day I can be brave enough to tell you how I feel in person, but for now, please know that there is someone here who cares about you.

Sincerely, a humble admirer.”

What the hell is this? I thought. I stuffed the letter back into the envelope and left it on my desk that day. As hard as I tried to push the thoughts out of my mind, I would return the next morning to interrogate the old men below me about the orange envelope. They’d shrug and shake their heads, plastic smiles plastered on their yellow teeth.

 

I decided it could only be a prank, but for some reason I kept the letter anyway. I’m not a very sentimental person, but I guess I just never had reason for it. My life was built up by a series of fast tracks, one laid on top of the other like a vertical drop to hell. There was no time to dwell on stupid things like this, and yet…there was something about that letter. I slipped it under a framed photo of my family on my desk. Maybe there was just something comforting about the orange envelope.

 

 

 

_My office glows all night long  
It's a nuclear show and the stars are gone  
Elevator, elevator, take me home _

 

 

I work in a big glass cage, overlooking a city that never sleeps. My office at the top floor is one of millions of lights that shine at all hours of the day. I spend about 80% of my day in there, sifting through paper, managing people disguised as numbers and letters, and socializing with other wealthy, slimy people like me around the world. Every conversation concluded in a transaction, whether it’s time, money, or favours. What a fucking world we live in.

The other 19% of my time is dedicated mostly to business lunches and repeating the process in _other_ glass cages. Sometimes I sleep too—no matter what they say, I’m not made of stone. I try my best to sleep in my own bed. That’s the 1%. On the nights I can’t sleep, I sit alone at my mini bar and drink through the night. What a life.

I take the elevator twice a day, going up and going down. I never talk to anyone, though I hear my name preceding a hundred bows a day as they give me a wider berth than politeness requires.

Still, the elevator is crowded with black and grey suits, and it’s always silent all the way up. Late into the night, I am always alone when I take the elevator home. Somehow, the silence always feels louder.

On Tuesday morning, I stepped into the elevator. As usual, they parted for me as I take my post in the back, bowing and saying my name like puppets with broken strings.

If anyone were to slip me a note, this would be the place.

I looked around and surveyed the faces around me. I see these faces every day—long, round, square, broad, and small—yet they looked so strange to me that day, like I was seeing them for the first time

A man straightened his tie and checked his reflection in the door

A woman checked her emails, then her reflection in her phone’s camera

A man’s eyes flitted around nervously.

Who could it be? Who wanted so badly to play with my heart like this? My eyes marked the back of each person's head with an invisible cross—was it the tall, handsome man with the grey suit, or the man with a perpetually pink face or maybe it was a woman. The girl watching me from her selfie camera, perhaps. The thrill of such a thought made my blood rush—could it be a woman risking everything? Did such grand romantic foolishness exist?

 

I didn't get a letter that day, but I didn't have much time to think about it anyway. Crisis hit as soon as I sat down, and I worked through day and night putting out fires and correcting other people's mistakes and pretending I didn't care. After a while, maybe I really didn't care. It was nothing but clockwork, no matter how much I despised every moment of it. And clockwork was easy.

At the end of the night, however, an emptiness lingered. In those moments, if I had a home to go to, that’s what I’d look forward to most.

 

 

 

_I'm so hard for the rich girl  
Her heels so high and my hopes so low  
Cause I don't know how to love _

 

  
It was Friday morning by the time I got another letter. It was another orange envelope, sealed with a smiling strawberry sticker. I’d found it in the middle of the night when I’d tried to rub the fatigue out of my eyes and ended up knocking over my purse. It slid out innocuously. Little did the envelope know what an impact it would have on me.

I read it slowly, savouring this excitement like it was the greatest treasure in the world because, maybe deep down inside, beneath the barricades around my heart, I didn’t want this to be a joke.

Once again, a single page, smelling faintly of strawberries.

“Dear Miss Ahn,

I hope you had a good week. Every day, when I leave to go home, I see your office shining brightly. Please remember to eat! On the back of this letter, I’ve enclosed a coupon for free fried chicken. Maybe you don’t need a coupon, but they will deliver to your office any time.

Yours truly, your humble admirer.”

I flipped the letter over, and, sure enough, a brightly coloured strip of paper entitled me to a free meal. Below the coupon was a cutely drawn picture of me eating chicken. I had to smile.

In retrospect, it must’ve been the picture that won me over. The simple pen drawing was so genuine. I wondered if she—and by now I was convinced my admirer was a woman, if only because my cynicism could not comprehend the idea of such thoughtfulness in men—drew it at work. Was she huddled in her cubical with her hands shielding the letter from prying eyes? I wondered if someone else had given her the coupon. Did she give up a free meal for me despite knowing how little money mattered to the girl on the throne?

I didn’t redeem the coupon, but I did buy chicken from that restaurant that night. She was right—I hadn’t eaten, and the meal made me feel a little closer to her. Even if she turned out to be fictional.

 

And maybe a part of me hoped that we could one day redeem the coupon together.

 

 

 

I'll take her home after midnight  
And if she likes, I'll tell her lies  
Of how we'll fall in love by the morning  
I don't think she'll know  
That I'm saying goodbye.

 

 

I thought about her all weekend. Come Monday morning, I was on high alert. My eyes were beginning to catch any mention of orange around me. Three more letters came and went, all heartfelt little notes with little drawings attached—I was starting to think she was a ninja. A part of me wanted to keep the secret. I believed she thought me better than I really was, and yet she seemed to be able to see right through me. A part of me badly wanted to write her back, so I kept looking.

The faces in the morning elevator rush began looking more and more familiar, though it was never the same group of people. I tried to narrow down the people I see the most. There was no pattern to the letters, unfortunately. She must’ve slipped them into my purse whenever she could. As a result, I was suspicious of every woman and man—didn’t want to rule out the possibility—I ever came across.

It was a Friday morning when I caught her.

I was wearing sunglasses—despite the hours I spent that morning trying to cover the bags under my eyes with makeup, it still looked like I hadn’t slept for two days. It was the truth, but cutthroat corporate culture didn’t need to know that. I was thinking about a proposal on my desk that morning, when I caught something reaching for my purse. I looked down at the slender wrist I had grabbed, the orange envelope trembling slightly, then my gaze travelled up her arm and into a pair of wide, fearful eyes.

She was right beside me, so small behind the tall man in the grey suit that, somehow, I’d never noticed her. How the hell did I never notice her? I didn’t let her go. The elevator went up all fifty floors. Even when she moved to exit with the tall man on the forty-first floor, I held her there. Then, not wanting to draw attention to us, I let her go, hoping she’d stay.

I took off my sunglasses then, and studied her tiny frame, squeezed into the corner of the elevator as if trying to avoid my gaze. Her eyes ducked down, her chest almost imperceptibly rising and falling. Her fingers nervously fidgeted with the orange letter. I quirked a brow; she glanced up for the briefest of moments. What would a cute girl like her want with someone like me?

We didn’t exchange a word until I took her back to my office, earning a puzzled look from my two secretaries outside. I asked them to bring up some tea, then sat the girl down in front of my desk. As I waited for the tea, I continued studying her from the other side of my desk. Everything about her seemed to match the letters to a tee, and yet she was like a puzzle I could not figure out.

My secretary came and went, and I gestured to the mug. The girl bowed, still unable to meet my eyes, and took hurriedly grabbed the mug in both hands for fear of offending me.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“W-Wheein,” she murmured. “Jung Wheein. Employee number 83260.”

“A thorough answer, Miss Jung,” I replied with a practiced smile. “Which department are you in?”

“Design.” She looked so nervous she was about to break.

“Relax, you’re not in trouble,” I assured her. “I just want to let your manager know that you’re here. What’s the name of your direct superior?”

Still, her eyes were focused on the slightly trembling mug. With a slight stutter, she gave me a name I did not recognize, and I made the call. She took a sip of her tea, and I smiled a little.

“So, Miss Jung,” I said slowly.

Before I could say another word, she blurted, “I’m sorry!” The passion of those two words spilled a little tea onto my carpet, spurring a series of apologies as she stooped down to clean the stain out with her sleeve.

“Hey, hey, stop! You’re going to ruin your blouse,” I said, rounding the desk to kneel down and grab her wrist. “It’s okay. Seriously.” I pulled a packet of tissues from my pocket and soaked up the tea. “Do I really make you that nervous?” I chuckled.

She shook her head vigorously as I pulled out a fresh tissue. “Give me your hand,” I said, to which she complied almost instantly. I held her hand in my own and dabbed at the soiled edge of her sleeve. She was warm, and her eyes, finally glittering back at me, were so bright.

“You’re really cute,” I said without thinking. She flushed a deep crimson and looked away. “You know, your letters made me happy. Even when I thought it was a joke, I—”

“It’s not a joke!” she cried, blushing again when she apologized for her outburst. “I…my feelings are real.”

I tilted my head. There was something about the way she flickered her gaze from her sleeve to my eyes, the way her lips were as red as her cheeks—the way she looked like she wanted to run away—I badly wanted to tease her.

“What kind of feelings are those?”

She stiffened. “I…I thought it was obvious…f-from the letters.”

“But how can I know for sure if you don’t tell me outright?” I asked her.

“Miss Ahn, please,” she murmured, looking away as she slipped her hand out of mine. I curled my fingers around the empty air, and rested my fist on my knee, waiting. “You don’t need to trouble yourself with…me,” she went on, sitting back on her heels. She bowed, if only to avoid my eyes once more. “Please don’t concern yourself with someone as unworthy as me. I have no right to bother you like this.”

I sighed. “Is everyone this afraid of me?”

At this, she straightened slowly. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

I rubbed my eyes with a thumb and forefinger. “Whatever,” I told her. “You can take your feelings and go back to your office now.”

I was about to stand up when I found her studying me intensely. She grabbed my wrist, and I glared. She loosened her grip for a split second, then tightened it again, pulling me forward.

I fell.

She caught me in both hands and kissed me softly.

In that moment, I felt the morning sun warm me through the window, and her soft, soft lips so seamlessly perfect against my own. My god, it’d been so long. All these years, I’d been so accustomed to my loneliness that it was as familiar to me as my own shadow. And this girl, Wheein, managed to creep into my life and steal pieces of my shadow away from me—all in little moments of bravery like this one.

At the end of the kiss, I smiled. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“I-I have to go back to work.”

She scurried off then, taking my heart with her.

  
That night, I worked through the day with love on my mind. I’d been flipping the word over and over and wondering if I could make it stick. Despite what happened that morning, Wheein was braver than I ever thought I could be. She was so beautiful and full of love, and I only knew how to drink alone.

And that right there was something I didn’t want to face—a truth about myself and my reality. If I stripped away the sparkling orange letters and the bubbly feelings in my chest, there was only a canyon of emptiness and a landfill of insecurities piled high beneath my throne.

There are a million ways people find a way to run from their reality. They might find it in a little green glass bottle, or a little plastic orange one. They might write elaborate worlds to dive into, create abstract shapes with paint, or consume it all until their chests expand and the emptiness falls right out. Even if only for a moment. Me? I just work. I take solace, not comfort, in work. What had been childish endeavours to win my father’s trust has become a safe place of understanding—as much as it crushes me, I’ve never been good at chasing independence. Independence, after all, requires figuring out what you want, and wanting is the one privilege I’ve never known.

And so, I worked and worked and worked.

Come Saturday night, I was still working.

At midnight, I was bent over my desk, my arms beneath my head on top of a pile of papers. A knock on my door, so soft I thought I’d imagined it, woke me up from my nap. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and groggily searches for whoever was still around. Typically, it was one of the nice cleaning ahjummas who come in to take my trash, but today it was Jung Wheein who stood at my door. She’d shed her office attire in favour of comfortable brown sweater. Even in the washed-out yellow light, she looked beautiful.

I caught myself in the middle of that thought. This woman, who I’d never noticed until yesterday, how could I find myself so enraptured by her beauty in that moment? I blamed it on my coffee and fatigue.

“Miss Jung,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “What are you doing here?”

She blushed and held up a plastic bag. “I brought food,” she said with a shy smile.

At that precise moment, my stomach grumbled. “How did you know?” I asked with a laugh.

“It was an educated guess. I brought a lot of things because I don’t know what you like. Is it…alright to eat with you?”

I bit my lip and, in a moment of bravery, said “Let’s take this back to my place.”   
  
The car ride was silent, her at one end of the back seat with her hands in her lap, and I at the other end, trying to avoid eye contact with my driver through the rear-view mirror.

It was silent all the way up the elevator ride to my suite as we stood side by side, the warmth between us merging into a single centimeter of courtesy. We stole glances at each other like guilty children, too shy to touch, yet something bristled between us. Something very hard to ignore.

I took her food and told her to make herself at home, where the silence prevailed.

It wasn’t until I’d taken all the food out of the containers and was in the process of plating everything when the first words were spoken.

“Um, Miss Ahn?”

Wheein’s little voice so loud in the silence that I leapt up and slammed my forehead against the wine cabinet above me. I could still remember the stream of profanities and the way my brain seemed to rattle inside my skull. Then, her soft hands on my face and the hushed whispers of her voice soothing the pain away as if we weren’t just a pair of strangers.

She asked me if it hurt.

I kissed her again without thinking, brief and chaste but sweet all the same.

She blushed.

I told her I was fine and thanked her with a peck on the cheek.

With a cute little embarrassed grin, she asked me where the bathroom was.

By the time she returned, flashing her sheepish, dimpled smile, it was as if something clicked into place. We had dinner in the kitchen that night—the dining room being far too big and lonely—and we talked about everything and nothing at all as we bided our time in each other’s company.

I found out she was a dreamer, a creative soul who chased her way up the corporate ladder and sought her escape in other worlds. She dreamt of visiting the snowy peaks of the Alps, the burning sands of the Serengeti, and the lush, dewy air of the Amazon. I wanted to tell her I’d been to the Alps on a business trip, but the way she spoke of pictures alone with such wide-eyed wonder—I was embarrassed that I could remember nothing of my trip.

And when she asked me if there was anything I wanted to do or see, or anywhere I’d like to visit, I panicked. In my panic, I stole the words from her lips and kissed her deeply. Later, I’d blame the alcohol and the dim lighting, but no matter what the reason, one kiss soon led to many. Things escalated faster than my thoughts could catch up.

Being with her was thrilling, cathartic, and I caught myself thinking how easy it would be to fall in love with her.

And I caught myself wondering if she thought the same.

In the heat of the moment, I could’ve sworn I heard the uninhibited, drunken half-whisper of love. I whispered it back without thinking, hoping to soothe her fears and send her to paradise.

What was there to love? I later asked her as I watched her sleeping face.

I can’t say I’d ever regret what happened, despite the hours I spent on my balcony that night wondering if I’d fucked it all up somehow with my half-assed, half-thought-out, half-confession. Even so, a part of me dreaded the dream coming to an end when she woke up to eventually understand who I really am.

 

 

 

Don't go!  
Say you'll stay!  
Spend a lazy Sunday in my arms  
Don't take anything away

 

 

At the break of dawn, I crawled back into my sheets and gathered her into my arms. I was, in all honesty, exhausted. Not only by the hours I’d given up to my doubts, but by the grueling years I’d spent in my office of never-ending lights. As she snuggled into my chest, I willed myself to let this be, even if it were the first and only morning we spend together.

I still remember how well I slept that morning. I slept like I’d never slept before, and in those days, it almost felt true. I dreamt about her and her shy smile, her sun-kissed morning hair, and breakfast together. I dreamt of a life where this was our everyday. I’d make her breakfast; she’d read me the news. I’d give her confidence; she’d give me security. She’d fill herself into all of my voids, and, in return, I’d make my home in hers.

In a separate dream, I woke up alone after the blissful night to find an orange envelope on my bedside table. There was no sticker on the envelope, just a crinkled letter inside with a single line scrawled in blue pen: “Goodbye.”

In the hours between awake and dreaming, I was caught between both worlds. Warm beneath the blankets, I couldn’t feel anything around me, I couldn’t tell which scenario was true. I pictured that final orange envelope and squeezed my eyes tighter, so I wouldn’t wake up. I didn’t want to wake up alone.

I wanted her to stay.

I wanted her.

I wanted.

When I finally found the courage to wake up, the sun was high in the sky, and I, sprawled across the silken sheets of my queen-sized bed, was utterly alone.

I propped myself up onto my elbow and lifted my head. Sure enough, an orange envelope awaited me. My heart dropped a thousand feet, and, like a soldier through the trenches, I slowly crawled toward my bedside table.

The envelope was crinkled, but unlike my dream there was a smiling apple sealing it. It looked like it had been lifted and replaced several times, as the glue barely stuck to the battered paper. Inside, I told myself, was the final letter. I took a deep breath and pulled out a bundle of paper.

“Dear Miss Ahn,

I think you’ve been happier lately, and it makes me happy to see you happy. I am still finding the courage to finally introduce myself, but I find myself thinking that you don’t need a useless person like me. I wonder if you would be disappointed if you met me. I’ve been selfishly taking your attention with these letters. Thank you for reading my thoughts, no matter how trivial it may seem to you. This is my final letter, and I hope by the time you read this you will continue to find happiness in your life.

Yours truly, your humble admirer.”

“What the hell?” I said out loud. I threw the first sheet onto the bed, and frantically read the second sheet.

“Dear Miss Ahn,

I was not prepared for you to meet me, so I don’t know how to write this letter. Yesterday, meeting you was the biggest privilege of my life, and yet I found myself scared of what you’d think of me. Even after the kiss, I found myself doubtful you could ever love a useless person like me. Now that you know that I’m not particularly strong, smart, or beautiful, I thought you would never want to see me again. Still, I regretted running away yesterday. I thought, ‘What if this is the last chance to tell you how I feel?’ Selfishly, I came back.

Last night was the happiest night of my life, but I still could not find the courage to tell you. I know that I am unworthy, and yet I need to try because I don’t want to live my life with regrets. I’ve enclosed what was supposed to be my final letter, so you can see that I am a coward. I want you to see who I truly am before you decide to never see me again.

I hope you will forgive me for leaving. I wanted to tell you all of this in person, but I remembered that I’d forgotten to feed my cat. If you’re okay with this, I will be back in a few hours with breakfast.

Yours truly, your humble admirer, Jung Wheein.”

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. I pulled on my robe and ran to the door, throwing it open with such force that it untied my robe and let it open. Jung Wheein stood at my door, wide-eyed and red-faced, awkwardly lifting the bag of food up with a sheepish smile. “I brought food,” she said, her eyes avoiding my general—and partly nude—direction by burning holes into her shoes.

I pulled her inside, took the food in her hand, and placed it on the floor before closing the door and wrapping my arms around her.

“You scared me,” I mumbled into her shoulder. “I woke up and thought everything had been a lie. Don’t…don’t do that.”

She gasped. “M-Miss Ahn?”

“Don’t,” I told her, “don’t call me that. I hate that name.”

She lifted her arms and squeezed me close. “H-Hyejin?” she tried.

“Yeah. That’s fine. It’s perfect.”

I smiled into her shoulder, and she smelled like fresh rain, so unlike the sugary fruitiness of her stickers.

“Are you hungry?”

“Let’s just stay here.”

“Okay.”

We stood this way for a while, warm in each other’s arms. I felt naked—as I was, partly—vulnerable almost, but safe. Safe enough to contemplate her shape, her scent, the abstract concept of _her_. I felt safe enough to want this. Want _her_.

“I think—” we both said at the same time. We chuckled and looked away, suddenly shy as our feelings fought to finally breathe.

When she said nothing, I went first before I could lose my nerve.

“I think I’m falling in love with you, Wheein.”

She kissed me then, so salty and sweet.

“That’s exactly what I wanted to say.”

 


	18. Paint Me by MAMAMOO

“Wait, remind me again why your _mother_ is getting involved in this?” 

 

Kim Yongsun pointed her fork at Jung Wheein, her dimple-cheeked childhood best friend of twenty years. “Because—just like _your_ mom—my mother gets involved in _everything_.” 

 

Wheein sipped her coffee. “Sure,” she said with an amused smile, “but I like to think that my mother draws the line when it comes to who I hire to paint my living room. She might complain about the paint colour and how ‘polar bear’ is sooooo much paler than ‘snowstorm’ and it doesn’t match any of the tiny doilies she’s put around my house, but whatever. Who cares about the painter?” 

 

“Apparently my mother does.” 

 

Wheein had known Yongsun long enough, having bonded over their mothers’ individual shades of crazy throughout the years, but she’d always thought Mrs. Kim was just a shade stranger. “I don’t remember her throwing a fit when you painted your bedroom last year. Why is your living room so special? Did she tell you why?”

 

It was the moment Yongsun had been waiting for—she placed her fork down and folded her hands. “Let me tell you, my dear, sweet Wheein, what my mother said in the two _hours_ she went on about this painter _all_ the middle-aged women are in love with.” 

 

“Oh no.” 

 

“He is the most thoughtful, hard-working, patient, most hard-working person she has ever met. And” — she paused for dramatic effect — “he’s sooooo handsome and soooooo sweet and sooooo, soooo _single._ ”

 

“Oh _no_ ,” came Wheein’s wide-eyed reply. “Do you think this is because…”

 

“I came out to her? Yes. A million percent, _yes_.”

 

Wheein bit the inside of her cheek and stirred her coffee. She had been there at the time of her friend’s big coming out announcement, and her mother did _not_ take it well. There was a lot of silence—suppressed tears, shuffling steps out the door, and Mr. Kim’s wee, little voice chasing after his wife. Never in Wheein’s twenty years with the Kim family had she known Mrs. Kim to be _quiet_ , and it came as no surprise that they never spoke of the incident since. Perhaps it shouldn’t have surprised her that now, two months later, she decided to set her daughter up. 

 

“Maybe...maybe he’ll turn out to be gay?” she offered, “I mean, I don’t know. If he’s single there has to be…”

 

“My mother said it’s because he’s a painter—not even the artistic kind,” Yongsun replied with a finger on her temple. “He’s uneducated, so nobody wants to date him.” 

 

“What is this, the nineteenth century? Are we supposed to look for boys to marry so we can take their inheritance because we can’t work?” 

 

“And he’s shy,” Yongsun went on. “Shy and sensitive and apparently wealthy because all he does is work.” 

 

“At least he sounds...nice?”

 

“Nice.” Yongsun gave her a look and jabbed at the greens in her bowl for emphasis. “Really, Jung Wheein?”

 

Wheein raised her hands. “It’s not the end of the world, unnie, just ignore him. I mean, you don’t even have to _really_ hire him right? Ah, even as I’m saying this it’s starting to sound ridiculous, and—wow—speaking of the She-Dragon, here she comes.” Wheein pointed at the phone at Yongsun’s elbow, lit up to display a picture of a well-dressed woman in her fifties, smiling innocuously next to a potted plant at an obscure yet generic fancy hotel. 

 

Yongsun lowered her fork, her heart beating rapidly, as if just entertaining the idea of defying her mother managed to guiltily dredge up every disappointment she’d ever inflicted upon her mother, past, present, and future. 

 

Yongsun held the phone in her hand and flashed her big, doey eyes at her friend for an extra ounce of sympathy. 

 

Across the table, Wheein pumped a fist and mouthed, “Fighting!” 

 

Yongsun squared her shoulders and took a breath, then pressed the green button to answer the call, bracing for impact with squeezed-shut eyes. Her mother, never one to disappoint, blew out her ears with a screech. “Where are you, and why aren’t you home?’ Were the first of too many questions. Wheein grimaced in sympathy, having clearly heard every syllable from across the table, and shook her head as she listened to Yongsun’s desperate monosyllabic replies. 

 

At the end of the call, it was as if the entire room was drained of energy. 

 

“You know, I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life,” Yongsun said, leaning heavily on her fist, “but the _worst_ one was probably giving my mother a key.” 

 

* * *

 

Yongsun trudged up to her door. She envisioned her mother sitting there with the classic look of disapproval aging her otherwise beautiful features, or fussing about her house with new trinkets she’d hate. What she hadn’t expected was to see her mother _leaving_. 

 

“Oh, there you are! Aish, you’re so late,” Mrs. Kim grumbled. 

 

“Umma, I was out with Wheein,” Yongsun sighed. “I came as soon as you called.”

 

“Well, it doesn’t matter. I’m meeting Mrs. Park and Mrs. Lim for tea. I’m going to be late if I don’t leave now. Oh! Tell Wheeinie to say hi to her mother for me!”

 

“Wait, umma!” Yongsun cried as her mother hurried past her. If she hadn’t been looking for it in that precise moment, she would’ve almost missed the secret smile quivering at the corner of her mother’s lips just as she hurried past. 

 

“Why were you even here?”

 

“Remember to eat!” Her mom’s voice echoed back from around the corner. Then, silence. 

 

“I _was_ eating,” Yongsun muttered to herself as she dug into her purse to retrieve her keys. “What the hell was _that_?” 

 

The answer to her question came when she opened her door to see the back of a slim figure in a cap standing in the middle of her living room. 

 

The stranger screamed. Something clattered to the floor. 

 

And when the moment settled, Yongsun’s wide eyes registered the paint splattered overalls, the paint sample cards scattered on her floor, and, most of all, the slim features, the long hair, and the fallen cap of a _woman_. But, it couldn’t be— 

 

“W-who are you?” Yongsun asked with her hand gripped tight on her purse. 

 

The woman raised her hands. “M-Moon Byulyi. Your m-mother hired me to paint your living room.”

 

“What?” 

 

The woman lowered her hands carefully. “Did she...not tell you?” 

 

“She did, but...you’re...a woman?” Yongsun loosened her grip on her purse. 

 

“Yes, well...last I checked, I am,” the strange woman replied with a sheepish half-smile that was far too much to Yongsun’s taste. 

 

Yongsun smiled back stiffly. “Will you...excuse me for a moment? I’ll be right back.” 

 

In the safety of the bathroom, she sat on the toilet seat, took out her phone, and, dialed her mother’s number. Unsurprisingly, it went straight to voicemail. She could almost picture her triumphant smirk. 

 

Then, taking a deep breath, she sent a perfectly calm message to Wheein. 

 

_ OH MY GOD SHE IS A WOMAN. _

 

Wheein wrote back instantly. _Who???_

 

_ THE PAINTER. THE PAINTER IS NOT A MAN. SHE IS A WOMAN. MY MOTHER IS SETTING ME UP WITH A WOMAN. I DON’T UNDERSTAND!!! _

 

She could almost hear Wheein’s hysterical fit of laughter. _Are you sure it was YOUR mother?_

 

_ YES. I SAW HER IN THE HALLWAY LOOKING VERY, VERY SUSPICIOUS.  _

 

_ What did she say to you in those two hours?? Didn’t she use pronouns? _

 

_ I DON’T KNOW. She just said “this person” and “that person”!!  _

 

_ Wow...your mother is...something else, unnie. I guess that means she’s okay with it in the end?  _

 

_ I’m so confused. Wheeinie, save me.  _

 

_ Is she cute? _

 

Yongsun slammed her forehead against her phone when that sheepish, boyish smile came to mind. _Yes,_ she wrote back sullenly. 

 

Fifteen minutes and an awkward realization—she’d spent _way_ too much time in the bathroom than what was considered socially acceptable—later, she ambled back into the living room where the painter— _Miss_ Moon Byulyi—stood by her living room couch, holding a swatch of blue in each hand. 

 

At the sound of footsteps, she turned and offered yet another unfairly adorable smile. “Welcome back,” she said.

 

Instead of responding like the intelligent person she was, Yongsun’s came out in a near-squawk: “B-blue?” 

 

Byulyi’s eyes widened. She glanced down at the navy swatch in her right hand, an adorable blush decorating her cheeks as she turned it around. “You don’t like it?” she asked, her voice pushed slightly higher by nerves. She cleared her throat. “We don’t have to use blue. M-Mrs. Kim thought it might look nice with the, um, white couches.” 

 

Yongsun leaned against the doorframe connecting her living room and her bathroom. “Well, um, what do you think?” 

 

“Ah...I don’t...really...I’m just a humble painter,” she said, her smile growing a little, albeit forcefully. “I guess...I’ve read somewhere that blue...brings a sense of calm to a room. Maybe sadness too, but, aha, I don’t really think a room can make people feel sad just because of its colour.” 

 

Yongsun rubbed her arm. “You...sound like you know a lot?” 

 

Byulyi chuckled, and Yongsun can’t help but feel herself drawn to the sound. She kicked herself a little, but doesn’t resist moving a little closer. “It’s a part of my job, I guess. Though people don’t usually ask me for my opinion, so I’d say colours and colour theory are...more of a hobby?” 

 

Yongsun idly picked up a book of swatches and splayed it out like a fan. _I wonder what she sees when she looks at these?_ she thought. 

 

“Do you have a colour you like, Miss...ah…Sorry, I didn’t realize I didn’t get your name. Your mother talked about you a lot, but it was mostly ‘my daughter this’ and ‘my daughter that’,” Byulyi said with a sheepish smile. “She sure is proud of you, isn’t she?” 

 

Yongsun scoffed. “She’s embarrassing is what she is. How did you have the misfortune of meeting her anyway?” 

 

“Ah, I do some electrical work too from time to time. I helped her friend, Mrs. Lim, fix a dead outlet once, and she recommended me to Mrs. Kim. I painted her bathroom last week.”

 

Yongsun nodded slowly. “She didn’t tell me that,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. To Byulyi, she asked, “Are all of your clientele middle-aged women?”

 

Byulyi laughed again, and Yongsun had to step back a little before she could admit to herself just how much she liked the sound. “I guess so. I mostly get jobs from word of mouth, so a lot of my clients know each other. It’s not so bad though! Sometimes they feed me. Ah—not that I’m expecting food or anything, Miss…”

 

“Yongsun.” 

 

“Miss Yongsun,” she finished with a grin that shot right through the other woman’s heart. 

 

“W-well then,” Yongsun said, placing the swatches back on her coffee table with a toss of her hair and desperately trying to maintain her calm facade, “you can do whatever you like. Blue is fine if you feel like it’s right. I don’t really spend a lot of time here anyway. Besides, if my mother likes it...I’d hate to see what she’d do with my place if I don’t do it her way.” 

 

Byulyi, with an uncertain shift in her eyes, nodded. 

 

“I guess I’ll leave you to it then, and do...some work,” Yongsun muttered. She waved before she could see or hear Byulyi’s response, and retreated into the safety of her bedroom, where she promptly pulled out her phone and threw herself onto her bed like she was fifteen years old and pining over some upperclassman all over again. 

 

_ Wheein, help me, what do I do?  _ She typed furiously. 

 

Within seconds, she got a reply. _Is she single???_ _I’m still not over your mom playing gay Cupid for you._

 

_ I don’t want to give her the satisfaction, but...Whee…she is so….agh!!  _

 

_ That better not be a virtual orgasm, unnie _ . 

 

Yongsun nearly choked on her own saliva. _Don’t be stupid_ , she hammered out, thanking the stars that Wheein could not see the state of her glowing, red face. 

 

_ I’m curious though. Sneak a picture!  _

 

_ That’s— _

 

Just then, a knock at her door jolted her awake. She leap off the bed and flung the door open, her face continuing to burn as she suddenly found herself very close to the most handsome grin in the world. 

 

“Miss Yongsun,” Byulyi said, bowing. Her heart selfishly raced at the sound of her own name, sending several shades of warm and tingly feelings throughout her body. “I’ve picked this one,” she continued triumphantly in her reserved, ridiculously pleasant voice. She handed Yongsun one of the many paint chips she had been looking at earlier. Yongsun, however, was watching the way her lips were moving when she received it card. 

 

“It’s called Blue Eclipse. I think its greyish undertones would add a lot of elegance to the room. If it was a shade darker, it would be perfect for a den or a study. As it is, I think it’s kind of lively. At least, it will make your furniture pop.” 

 

Yongsun nodded. “You really like colours, don’t you?” her lips said before her brain had the chance to turn on. 

 

Byulyi’s smile faltered for a moment before it was replastered with a polite one. Yongsun couldn’t kick herself harder if she tried. “Ah, did I go on with my nonsense again? S-sorry…well if...if you want, I—”

 

Before Yongsun could make it anymore awkward, she grabbed her arm and shouted, “I’ll take it!”

 

In moments, the slow, sheepish grin returned. “Okay,” Byulyi said quietly. Somehow, she looked like the happiest girl in the world. “I’ll pick up the paint and I’ll b-be back tomorrow then? At eight?” 

 

“Y-yeah. Can’t wait,” Yongsun replied in a half-whisper that pushes the other woman a step backwards. Yongsun kicked herself again—why was it so hard to act like a normal person around this woman? It wasn’t like it was a date. She was coming to her house. To work.

 

“I’ll see myself out,” Byulyi said with another small bow. “See you tomorrow, Miss Yongsun.” 

 

“B-bye.” 

 

She closed her bedroom door and pressed her forehead against it. She was so fucked. 

 

But a part of her brain tingled with her mother’s smug smile, and she did _not_ want to give her the satisfaction of being right. 

 

No, she was not going to let that girl, no matter how cute she is, get to her. 

 

* * *

 

At exactly 7:45 the next morning, Yongsun jolted awake at the sound of her heavy front door croaking open. Fear pinned her beneath the covers as she listened, immediately assuming the worst. Someone had broken in. He could be a thief, she thought frantically, or a murderer. Or a rapist. Or a thieving serial murder-rapist. 

 

Her sleep-addled mind shifted through several possible scenarios of how to get out of this situation. 

 

One, grab her cellphone from the bedside table as quietly as possible and call the authorities, then wait ten minutes for their arrival and possibly die in that time. 

 

Two, scream and wake her neighbours, get discovered then _very_ possibly die in that time. 

 

And finally, three: grab the golf club given to her by a useless ex, and beat the bastard to death. 

 

She crept out of bed and slowly and stealthily reached into her open closet to wrap her fingers around a dusty, leather-wrapped, handle. 

 

Her bare feet padded across her bedroom in three quick steps, then, pressing herself against the door, she attempted to raise the club with one hand. It was heavier than she’d expected, and she did not get very far. 

 

Scowling to herself with the promise of future appointments at the gym, she raised the club with both hands and waited. 

 

Her living room was quiet. 

 

Oh no. What if the thief already left? She ran a list of things in her living room that were of value, but the more she mulled on this the more she began to sweat. 

 

She dug the shaft of her club into her shoulder and reached for her door with shaking hands. Then, with a final breath, the cloud around her brain finally lifting from sleep, she squared her shoulders, squeezed her eyes shut, opened her lungs in battle cry, and burst through her bedroom door. 

 

The clatter of metal and a long simultaneous scream rattled her windows, and when Yongsun finally opened her eyes, they met the wide-eyed horror of Moon Byulyi, who was sprawled over her plastic-wrapped couch with her hand on her chest, most likely regretting her heinous crime of showing up to work early. 

 

“Oh my god,” Yongsun breathed. “I’m so sorry, I...I thought...you were a thief...or something.” 

 

Byulyi rolled over off the couch and pushed herself up with a grunt. “I-it’s okay,” she said, her quivering voice betraying exactly the opposite of “okay.”

 

Yongsun bowed frantically, gripping her golf club desperately. “I’m really sorry!” 

 

“No, no, no,” Byulyi said with another one of those damn sheepish smiles, “it’s my fault. I should’ve rang the doorbell.” 

 

“How did you get in?” 

 

Byulyi reached into the pocket of her jeans, paint splattered like her overalls from yesterday, and pulled out a key. “Mrs. Kim gave this to me. She asked me not to wake you. Guess that didn’t work, huh? I’m...really sorry for scaring you.”

 

“It’s...fine,” Yongsun muttered. What the hell was her mother thinking? Thanks to her, she’s gone and embarrassed herself by running out in her pajamas and—

 

Oh god, her pajamas. 

 

Yongsun looked down in horror when she realized she was still wearing her sleep clothes: her university T-shirt and her teddy bear underwear. After all, Kim Yongsun lived alone—she didn’t need to wear pants. Oh god, why didn’t she wear pants? 

 

Warm embarrassment flooded her entire body. 

 

Byulyi’s eyes were on the floor, her cheeks bright red as she scratched the back of her neck. 

 

“I’m…” Yongsun said slowly, “going to go back to bed.” 

 

“Y-yes, don’t worry about me.” 

 

Back in bed, Yongsun buried herself deep into her blankets with a groan. Inside the safety of her cave of shame, she turned on her phone and sent Wheein a defeated message. 

 

_ I thought she was a thief. She saw me in my underwear. My BEAR underwear. My life is over.  _

 

Wheein, like many on a Saturday morning, was still asleep, leaving her alone to stew in her shame. 

 

* * *

 

Three hours later, after several insensitive messages from her best friend and a twenty-minute pep talk in her bathroom after her shower, Kim Yongsun was ready to take on the world. Well, at least her living room. 

 

That was until she heard chatter on the other side of the door. Chatter and laughter. Laughter that didn’t belong to Byulyi, not that she had memorized her cadences or anything. 

 

“Miss Yongsun, you have a visitor!” Byulyi said. 

 

“Wow, way to make a girl feel like a princess. You should stick around, Miss Byulyi.” 

 

Oh god, Yongsun thought, flying to her door, she would recognize that voice anywhere. 

 

“How old are you anyway?” The voice continued. “You seem a bit older than me. Ah! You’re younger than Yongsun unnie. Can I call you unnie?” 

 

“Jung Wheein!” Yongsun cried, flying out of her bathroom and into the living room, grabbing her friend by the elbow and dragging her out through the front door and into the hallway. “What are you doing here?” 

 

“Oh! Thought you might want to get lunch together,” Wheein replied with a big, innocent smile. 

 

“Oh, don’t you pull your stupid dimple smile with me, Miss Wheein,” Yongsun huffed, waving a finger. 

 

Wheein simply shrugged. “I had to see it for myself. And honestly, she really is just your type, unnie. That shy, clumsy, begging to be taken care of look in her eyes—”

 

“Oh, shut up. Why are you so rude to your elders? Who raised you?” 

 

“You and my crazy mom?” Yongsun slapped her on the arm, prompting a yelp and a cry of, “Abuse!” 

 

Byulyi poked her head out from the door. “Is everything alright?” 

 

“Yes, everything is fine,” Yongsun replied with a strained smile. “We’re just heading out now.” 

 

Byulyi smiled brightly. “Here, don’t forget your keys! Have a good day, Miss Yongsun!” 

 

Yongsun caught her keys easily and mumbled something that she hoped would be a similar sentiment despite the lump in her throat. Beside her, Wheein’s quiet snickers blew into full-blown cackles as soon as the door closed. Yongsun cleared her throat and nudged her with a sharp elbow, but Wheein could barely breathe. “God, you should’ve seen your face,” she gasped in between laughter. 

 

“I hate you.” 

 

* * *

 

After a gruelling back and forth over bowls of noodles at the restaurant downstairs, Yongsun—having shoved Wheein into a cab and paying the driver to take her as far away as possible—found herself at a loss as she stood outside her apartment lobby. 

 

There was a pile of work waiting for her on her desk at home, but was she ready to face the stupidly adorable stranger in her apartment? 

 

She was instantly reminded of Wheein’s mouthful of noodles as she cried, “Shut up and talk to her, unnie!” She had slowed down just enough to swallow as she continued, “She’s only here for four days, you know. Even the middle-aged ladies know to seize the day and spoil her while she’s around. Or else I’ll have to break all of your sockets and scratch all of your walls so she has an excuse to come back. Don’t make Wheein turn into the bad guy.” 

 

So she let the girl talk her into packing up something extra. She looked down at the pink plastic bag in her hand. What on _earth_ was she doing? Buying a stranger’s affection with food like her mother’s gaggle of friends? 

 

She probably has plans for lunch. Maybe...maybe even a date. I mean, surely she wasn’t the first to have a schoolgirl crush on the earnest, young painter. 

 

Perhaps she should return to her office for a while. 

 

Oh, but her work is upstairs in her bedroom. 

 

The security guard watched her quizzically from his desk as she paced around the lobby. “Ms Kim, are you alright?” He asked. 

 

She smiled at the old man and gave a polite nod. Of course she was alright. What else could she tell the man? That she was obsessed about a stranger in her apartment? Someone whom she met _yesterday_ no less? 

 

Frustrated, she scurried to the elevator to get out of the old man’s line of sight. After all, Byulyi’s food was getting cold, so she shouldn’t be selfish.

 

By the time she got to her apartment, she had done enough breathing exercises in the elevator to

to command some sense of calm. With her most polite smile in place, she pulled out her key and opened her front door. 

 

Her eyes widened. 

 

All of her furniture had been pushed to the middle of the room, covered in plastic. In the middle of it all—drenched in sweat, a towel tucked into her collar and her shirt sleeves rolled all the way up, revealing the ridiculously defined arms of a woman capable of moving even the heaviest furniture on her own—stood Moon Byulyi, gulping down a bottle of water. 

 

God, Yongsun wanted to be that bottle of water. 

 

“Oh! Welcome back Miss Yongsun,” Byulyi said, slightly out of breath. “Hope you don’t mind the mess. I’ll move everything back once I get the paint on and everything.” 

 

Yongsun nodded stiffly, wishing she could turn off all of her senses so she could remember how to speak. 

 

“Are you okay?” 

 

Byulyi watched her with a slight tilt of her head. 

 

Yongsun nodded vigorously. “Yes, um, it’s just—just indigestion. I, uh, brought you some food...if you don’t have any lunch plans. I-I mean if you do I can always just…”

 

Byulyi brightened. “Wow, you didn’t have to do that, Miss Yongsun. That’s very kind. I hope it’s not because I said...” 

 

“Oh no, no, I just thought...maybe… Well, I don’t want to ruin any plans you made,” Yongsun murmured, warming up fiercely as she stepped behind her coffee table and took several steps closer. Before her brain could stop her, she was right between her couch and coffee table, close enough to Byulyi to reach out and touch her skin. 

 

She resisted the urge. Why was it so hard to behave like a regular human being around this woman? This beautifully sculpted masterpiece of a woman…

 

When Yongsun did not move, Byulyi shyly reached down for the pink bag, their fingers brushing slightly as she thanked her. Yongsun collapsed onto her plastic-covered couch.

 

“I was just going to go to the convenience store to buy some bread,” Byulyi explained, taking a seat beside Yongsun like nothing was wrong. She pulled out the bento box from the bag and turned to Yongsun, melting her on the spot with a big smile. “Thank you again. I hope you don’t find me rude or forward by accepting your gift so readily. Normally, um, despite what I told you...I don’t really like accepting food from my clients because it’s a bit unprofessional. To tell you the truth, I’m just very hungry today, and you seem like a very nice person. You really saved me! So…so, um,” her eyes flickered up to meet Yongsun’s, “I’ll have to repay you next time.” 

 

Yongsun nodded as she watched her happily pick up a big piece of gimbap and shove the whole piece inside her mouth. She couldn’t help but smile. “It’s no trouble at all,” she said. “You...seem to work really hard, so…”

 

Byulyi shrugged. “I’m just doing my job,” she said, poking her tongue out to lick a grain of rice off her cheek. 

 

“W-well I better go do some work,” Yongsun declared, standing up shakily. 

 

Byulyi smiled. “Thanks again.” 

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

* * *

 

That night, Kim Yongsun, still deep in her blankets in the darkness of the night, rustled awake to the squeak of her bedroom door. Her groggy mind just barely registered the footsteps and the new weight at the foot of her bed. She rolled onto her back with a groan. 

 

“Who’s there?” She mumbled, lifting her head and squinting into the darkness. 

 

The outline of a strong pair of arms reached for her and planted themselves on either side of her body. She rubbed her eyes and saw, then, a familiar face, far closer to her own than she had anticipated. She fell back with a gasp. 

 

“It’s just me.” 

 

“Byulyi…?”

 

“Yes,” came the breathy reply in her ear, sending shivers down her spine. She hovered over her, centimetres from touching at every curve. 

 

“W-what are you doing?” 

 

“I finished you living room,” Byulyi replied, planting a small kiss at the crook of her jaw. “I said I’d repay you for lunch, didn’t I?” 

 

“W-wha—”

“The way you look at me,” she continued, running a palm from the shoulder of Yongsun’s thin T-shirt to her elbow. “The fire, the passion, and the lust—I wish I could paint you red.” 

 

Paralyzed by both a magnetic pull to enter her space and a push to escape the sudden attention, Yongsun’s eyes quivered up at the half-shadowed lips above her. 

 

A hand dropped from her elbow to the curve of her waist, then tentatively—drawing a quiet gasp from Yongsun’s lips—along the swell of her breast, the touches so light that Yongsun—eyes closed, teeth scraping her bottom lip—found herself arching for more. 

 

Hot breath teased her sensitive neck. 

 

Yongsun’s hand reached up to draw her in—to draw it all in. Closer and closer. 

 

Her fingers wrapped around her thigh. 

 

Then—

 

She was gone. 

 

Yongsun’s eyes flew open into darkness, her heart thumping miles per second as reality slowly settled in. 

 

Was that...a dream? 

 

3:28 AM, read her alarm clock’s taunting white numbers. 

 

No… it couldn’t be. 

 

She threw the blankets off herself. 

 

But it was so hot in here. And it felt so _real_. 

 

She sat up and allowed her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Except she had to face the co-star of her little dream in less than five hours. 

 

With a final groan, she threw herself back into her pillows and tried to go back to sleep. 

 

And maybe not think about the random woman painting her living room. 

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Yongsun wandered into her living room with her forehead in her hands. Groggy from her sleepless night, she did not see the unopened cans of paint near her doorway and managed to catch her foot on one of them, sending her hurtling forward face-first. 

 

Fortunately, just as she was anticipating a collision with the cold, hard floor, a strong arm reached out and grabbed her by the waist, inadvertently pulling her into the protective embrace of a warm body. 

 

“Oh! Are you okay?” 

 

Her mind flashed back to her dream, so realistic it almost felt like deja vu hearing Byulyi’s voice again. Yongsun leapt away from her touch, so fast that her back hit the door frame with a smack and a wince. 

 

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. Fine. Perfect. Everything is...great.” 

 

Poor, clueless, handsome Moon Byulyi cocked her head, her cap falling over her eyes for a brief moment before she lifted the brim. The overalls were back today, fitted snugly over a paint-flecked white T-shirt with her sleeves rolled up to show off her toned arms. Her eyes, of course, were soft as ever as she watched her. “Are you sure?” She asked. “You’re kind of red.” 

 

Yongsun shook her head and pulled her arms closer around herself. “I’m fine,” she said with a small smile. 

 

“Well, um, do you...have a boyfriend? Maybe you should call him so he can take care of you,” Byulyi mumbled, her voice quieter and quieter as she went on. 

 

Yongsun studied her pink face and nervous shift of the eyes. Could it be…? 

 

Maybe…

 

She could tease her just a little. 

 

“I guess I can call him,” Yongsun said carefully. Her heart soared when, just for a moment, she could’ve sworn she saw Byulyi’s smile falter as she ducked her eyes beneath her cap. 

 

“Yes, that’s...a good idea,” Byulyi said, as politely as ever. 

 

“I guess I can call him,” Yongsun repeated with a triumphant smile, “if he existed.”

 

Byulyi’s eyes flew up, wide beneath her bangs. She fidgeted with her fingers, looking both scared and excited as she tried to parse through their exchange. In the end, she settled for a sweet smile aimed directly to kill. “In that case,” she said shyly, “I’ll be right here if you need me.”

 

“R-right.” A comfortable warmth filled Yongsun’s chest. “Thank you.”

 

True to her word, Byulyi did not fail to stop her work and check up on her every hour. Eventually, Yongsun moved her things to the square table in her kitchen, where Byulyi could watch over her while she worked. Of course, Yongsun couldn’t deny that she also— _coincidentally_ —had the perfect vantage point to sneak glances at Byulyi while she worked. The strong lines of her back as she covered her wall with long, languid strokes, the way her shirt would rise _just so_ to reveal the soft skin beneath. What would it be like to just reach out and—just for a moment—

 

Yongsun sighed. 

 

Alright, so she was openly staring a little too much. A few times Byulyi turned around, locking their eyes, and from the pinkness creeping into her cheeks in those moments—maybe she wasn’t as subtle as she thought. 

 

At noon, Byulyi insisted on buying lunch to repay yesterday’s debt—the very words sending heat to the tips of Yongsun’s ears as she recalled her dream. 

 

“Ginseng soup,” she declared, placing a plastic tub in front of Yongsun. “You say I work hard, but you work very hard too. We all need health foods like this once in a while, so you don’t get overworked.” 

 

Yongsun smiled politely, unsure how to correct her and explain the true cause of her fatigue. 

 

Byulyi returned the smile shyly before turning to her own meal. 

 

Thank everything that she wasn’t the prying type. 

 

“I think I will be able to finish your living room by tonight,” Byulyi said instead. Yongsun’s attention snapped up from her soup. Oh no. Byulyi’s sheepish expression, tinged with pink, waited expectantly for Yongsun’s reply. 

 

Frozen in dread, she simply gaped. 

 

“I-I mean...if there’s...nothing else?” Byulyi continued slowly. Expectantly, as if something else was seconds from tipping off the edge of her tongue. 

 

“Are you sure?” Yongsun finally said, wrapping her stiff fingers into a fist beneath the table. It’s too soon—a part of her wanted Byulyi to disappear and return her to a world she knew; a part of her wanted her to stay and...and what? 

 

This should’ve been simple. 

 

“You don’t...have to finish it all today,” Yongsun continued, internally wincing as she hoped Byulyi wouldn’t find her as pleading as her heart intended. 

 

Byulyi watched her silently. 

 

“W-what?” 

 

The younger woman blushed and shook her head, eyes suddenly drawn to the chopsticks in her hand. 

 

Maybe, Yongsun thought, there was no use denying her own feelings after all. And this girl—she sure as hell wasn’t going to make a move. So maybe—

 

She opens her mouth before she could figure out what to say. 

 

“Say, um, if you’re not busy tonight…”

 

Yongsun’s heart plummets down into her stomach and rockets back up.

 

“I’m not,” Yongsun replied a little too quickly.

 

Byulyi smiled brilliantly, somehow shy and more confident at the same time, and Yongsun didn’t mind the way it warmed her. “Do you maybe want to have dinner?” She twirled her chopsticks nervously. “And maybe see a movie? Tonight?”

 

Yongsun swallowed. “Will this be a date?” 

 

The question, clearly catching Byulyi off-guard, dropped the chopsticks with a clang from her deft fingers. Her eyes flicked quickly from her food to Yongsun’s face, as if searching for courage to land. 

 

Yongsun watched on with an amused turn of the lip. 

 

Finally, Byulyi sighed. “Yes. I—I want this to be a date. But...only if you want to,” she said, punctuating the sentence with a sweet smile. 

 

Yongsun returned the smile, calm as the ocean depths despite the excitement brewing inside. She opened her mouth to say yes—-to say anything at all besides, “Can I kiss you?” 

 

It was too late. Well, she just had to roll with it. 

 

Byulyi, startled and pink, spluttered something. Yongsun hoped to the universe it was consent before she suddenly drew up her courage, reached across the table, and pulled her forward by the straps of her overalls to—hesitate at the last moment—and plant a light kiss at the corner of her lip. 

 

Yongsun smiled sheepishly, letting her go in her embarrassment, but Byulyi didn’t back down. Instead, seemingly emboldened by Yongsun’s nervousness, she tilted her head and teased, “That’s it, Miss Yongsun? Perhaps I should rethink this date.” 

 

Yongsun flushed. “W-well you do it then!” 

 

She crossed her arms petulantly, fully expecting the other woman to get flustered, to curl her lips in that adorable way and divert them from the topic altogether. 

 

She didn’t expect her to push out of her seat and grab the back of her chair.

 

Didn’t expect the brightness to her eyes. 

 

Didn’t expect the little smile, bordering on a smirk, as she bent down and gently tilted her chin up. 

 

Didn’t expect the slow, tender kiss to suck the air out of her lungs. 

 

For all the nonsense her mother spewed, she certainly didn’t expect the shy woman to be such a _damn_ good kisser. 

 

“Wow,” Yongsun murmured breathlessly. “Please say you’ll still go on a date with me.” 

 

Byulyi grinned. “I can’t think of anything better.”

 

* * *

 

“Wait, remind me again why your _mother_ is coming too?” 

 

Wheein said, giving herself a once-over in Yongsun’s mirror for the last time. She straightened her dress and parted her hair, then craned back toward her best friend as Yongsun heaved a heavy sigh from her bathroom. 

 

“Because,” Yongsun said, pausing to reapply her lipstick, “my mother feels entitled to our relationship. Obviously. Besides, it's just a dinner.” 

 

“But it’s your anniversary dinner!” Wheein cried, padding over to the bathroom to give Yongsun a full view of her displeasure. “It’s a private thing, isn’t it?” 

 

Yongsun shrugged. “Byul doesn’t seem to mind. She’s good with middle-aged ladies. You know,” Yongsun went on as she put the final touches on her face, “I think my mother has become a lot less insufferable since Byul came around. Besides, she’s done worse than crash our anniversary dinner.” 

 

Wheein grimaced. “I don’t even want to know.” 

 

Yongsun laughed. “Are you ready?” 

 

“I also don’t understand why I have to come too,” Wheein said, shaking her head. “You know I’m no help against dragon lady motherly types.” 

 

“Oh, didn’t Byulyi tell you?” Yongsun asked, looking up from her makeup bag in surprise. 

 

Wheein narrowed her eyes. “What?” 

 

“Guess you’ll find out.” Unable to hide her mischievous grin, Yongsun strode out of her bathroom with a flick of her hair. 

 

“Wha—unnie, wait!” 

 

“Hey, are you ready?” Byulyi’s called from outside. 

 

“Coming!” Yongsun called back. 

 

“Unnie—”

 

Ignoring Wheein’s little whine, Yongsun threw open the door with grin, only to be met with a faceful of flowers. She gasped, taking a step back, prompting a laugh from behind the bouquet. 

 

“For you, my love,” Byulyi said with a lopsided grin. 

 

“Flowers?” Yongsun raised a brow. “Wow, um, thank you.” 

 

Byulyi chuckled. “They’re chocolate. I know how much you dislike impractical gifts.” 

 

Yongsun’s eyes widened as she re-evaluated the molded chocolate petals. “It really is!” She breathed. “How am I supposed to eat it all?” 

 

With a wink, Byulyi half-whispered, “I’ll show you tonight after dinner.” 

 

“Unnie, are you done?” Came a snicker from behind Byulyi. So distracted by the massive bouquet, none of them had noticed the presence of a fourth person. 

 

“Oh! Sorry,” Byulyi said, sheepishly reaching inside to place the bouquet on shoe cabinet. She gave Yongsun a quick peck on the cheek and stepped back out, then clapped a hand on the shoulder of a young woman with tousled hair and a smoldering stare. “This is Hyejin. I guess you can say she’s my protégé.” 

 

“Only part time,” Hyejin explained as she reached out and shook Yongsun’s hand. “Just trying to make some money to get through medical school. I’ve heard so much about you. You’re much prettier in person.” 

 

“Wow, you could be a model,” Yongsun returns. 

 

Hyejin shrugged. “Tried it. Not nearly as rewarding as some good old fashioned physical labour, in my opinion. And you.” She swept her gaze to Wheein, who had been standing behind Yongsun, watching the newcomer with interest, simply blending in, entirely unprepared for the woman to notice her. Much less take her hand and kiss her fingers without an ounce of embarrassment. “You must be my date,” she said with a predatory grin. “And a beautiful one at that. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

 

As the four of them piled into Byulyi’s car, Yongsun watched her friend in the rear view mirror, quiet for the first time in her life as Hyejin needled for her attention. 

 

“Is Wheeinie going to be okay?” Yongsun whispered to Byulyi. Byulyi expertly wove out of the parking lot and into the street. She glanced at her mirror just as Wheein smiled at something Hyejin said. 

 

“She’s going on a triple date with us and your parents. Of course she’s going to be okay.” 

 

“Ugh,” Yongsun sighed, leaning back in the passenger seat, “Why is my mother like this? You spoil her too much, Byul.” 

 

Byulyi laughed. “I don’t mind. If it weren’t for her, I’d never have met you. So she can crash whatever she wants to. Besides, the _real_ celebration doesn’t start until after dark. With chocolate.”

 

Yongsun slapped her lightly on the shoulder, her cheeks tinged pink. “You’re incorrigible.”

 

Byulyi flashed a toothy grin. “You love it.” 

 

“If I knew that underneath that shy, handsome exterior there was a lecherous old man lurking around, I never would have agreed to go on that date with you.” 

 

“Oh please, you were begging to go out with me after you got a taste of the great Moon Byulyi,” She retorted, wiggling her eyebrows. 

 

Yongsun snorted. “You’re gross.”

 

“Or maybe it was before that,” Byulyi sang happily. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten the way you looked at me when we first met. Who’s the lecherous old man now?” 

 

“Please, Byul-ah,” Yongsun groaned. “That’s so embarrassing.” 

 

“Yeah, honestly,” she continued to tease, “you were so preoccupied with my body that you didn’t even notice I was looking at you too.”

 

At the next red light, Byulyi stopped and intertwined her fingers with Yongsun’s. She kissed the silver band of their promise ring on her middle finger and smiled. “I love you, Miss Yongsun.”

 

Yongsun smiled shyly and twisted their hands slightly to do the same on Byulyi’s finger. 

 

“I love you too.”


	19. Make Me Feel by Janelle Monae

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to Story 18: Paint Me by MAMAMOO

Jung Wheein slams down her pen and reaches for the phone after the fifth buzz. She has been trying to block it all out and focus on her work, especially knowing what awaits her as soon as she flips over her phone. Sure enough, she is met with a wall of messages, none of which are helpful to her studies. 

 

Most of it are from Yongsun, her childhood best friend of twenty years. 

 

_ Hey, let’s have lunch _ , she reads. She rolls her eyes—it always starts innocuous enough. 

 

_ Come over. I’ll cook. _

 

_ Byul is working. _

 

_ I’m bored.  _

 

_ Come over.  _

 

Wheein shakes her head. Admittedly, she is hungry, but she is still secretly mad at Yongsun. 

 

_ Meet at usual restaurant _ , she types back. 

 

Yongsun answers immediately. _No, come over._

 

Wheein frowns. _No, I’m not hungry,_ she lies. 

 

_ Don’t lie, you dumb pup. Come over right now! I know you don’t have class!! _

 

Wheein curses audibly, garnering a few looks from the people around her in the library. There is only one option, she thinks as she scrolls past Yongsun’s messages and runs her eyes over The Text—ignore her. 

 

Jung Wheein is many things. She is smart, personable, and charming when she wants to be, yes, but she is _not_ good at relationships. Of any kind. After all the fragile connections over the years, having a best friend for twenty years keeps her anchored—even after she was forced to share said best friend. In fact, she likes Byulyi a lot. She likes seeing Yongsun happy. She likes all of the comfortable parts of their familiar bond.

 

She does _not_ like what Byulyi brought into _her_ life. The little red bubble in her phone, denoting her one unread message—it’s been haunting her every day since The Text came in a week ago. She knows exactly what it says; she read it when it came in. Read it again a thousand times over in her precious notifications. 

 

_When will I see you next, beautiful?_

 

She mouths the message to herself as her thumb hovers over the red bubble. 

 

The Text was from Ahn Hyejin, the wildest, most beautiful hurricane Wheein has ever seen. 

 

Dear god, what could she _possibly_ say to a woman like that? 

 

She had taken her phone number without her even realizing, having been drunk out of her mind on the night of their triple date, and left a piece of her inside. As for Wheein—well, really, what can she say? She mulled over it day after day, and as the days passed, it became harder and harder to reply. Finally, she convinces herself that it would be better if she says nothing at all. Opts for beating herself up over it instead.

 

Stupid Yongsun and her stupid girlfriend and their stupid triple date.   
  
  


She isn’t surprised when Hyejin doesn’t message her again. A woman like her must have no trouble finding a date, and it isn’t like Wheein left a particularly good impression when she met her last week at Yongsun and Byulyi’s anniversary dinner. She had been tongue-tied and stiff-limbed next to the other woman, with bouts of awkward laughter being her only contribution to the conversation. It had taken enormous amounts of alcohol to relax her jaw enough to speak, which ultimately led to—

 

She shakes her head. She doesn’t want to think about it. 

 

Her phone buzzes again. 

 

_ Stop ignoring me, Jung Wheein. You can’t run away from your problems forever.  _

 

“Watch me try, unnie,” she mutters under her breath. 

 

_ Barbeque.  _

 

Wheein tries to ignore the incoming messages, though her stomach’s interest is definitely piqued. 

 

_ I bought lots of meat.  _

 

“Unnie, stop,” Wheein grumbles, knowing full well she can’t hear her plea. 

 

_ And just for you, a big bottle of soju.  _

 

_ And juuuust for you, I even have French fries.  _

 

Finally, Wheein snaps. _Why?_ She types, slamming the letters down with the force of five middle fingers in Yongsun’s direction. 

 

_ Because I miss you. I haven’t seen you in forever, and you’re ignoring me.  _

 

_ I’m not.  _

 

_ Come over then!! _

 

Half an hour later, Wheein is walking down Yongsun’s block, happily thinking about all the food that awaited her. Images of glistening meat, ice cold soju, and golden French fries push all other thoughts out of her mind. Suddenly, she can’t even recall why she’s been avoiding Yongsun’s apartment in the first place. 

 

“In the hot oil, I’m mending my body today,” she says, practically skipping as she recites her nonsensical poem in a sing-song voice, thinking again of the promised French fries. “I’m frying all my starch and exhausted thoughts.” She smiles as she begins to approach the door to the front lobby. “If I wait eleven minutes, I’ll be born into a new potato!” 

 

“And you would be a very cute potato.” 

 

Wheein’s blood freezes—everything is cold when she hears that familiar lilting voice behind her. She doesn’t move, her short-circuited brain somehow convincing her that if she stays still she will not draw any further attention to herself. _No, no, no, no, no_ —

 

“Are you alright, little potato?” The voice catches up to her, until a face fills her vision, confirming her worst fears. 

 

“H-Hyejin,” she greets weakly. “Hi.” 

 

“Hi yourself,” she replies with a charming grin. “Are you here for lunch?” 

 

Wheein nods stiffly. She takes in Hyejin’s outfit. The last time she saw her, she was fully made-up and dressed to the nines. Today, with her hair pulled up into a ponytail, her too-big T-shirt tucked into her too-big, paint-splattered jeans and steel-toed boots, she is somehow equally gorgeous. And Wheein just doesn’t know what to do with that information. 

 

Why are you here? Wheein wants to ask during their silent elevator ride up to Yongsun’s apartment. She can feel Hyejin’s eyes, as piercing as if she were trying to see into her soul, and she can’t find the courage to speak. 

 

“I’m helping Byulyi unnie redo the bathroom. Called me in for the afternoon since I had class in the morning,” Hyejin explains. Wheein turns to her with wide-eyes, and wonders briefly if she can read minds. It would explain a lot if Hyejin has supernatural powers. But Hyejin just laughs, and it takes everything not to shiver at the melody.

 

“You’re not much for talking, are you?” Hyejin ends with a resigned smile. 

 

Wheein wants to say something, anything to prove her wrong, but _what_?

 

“You know I really did want to see you again.” 

 

She doesn’t miss the flicker of a sad smile adorning Hyejin’s pretty features, a brief moment where she exposes a crack in her confidence. She opens her mouth this time, but the elevator dings and, once again, it’s too late. 

 

Byulyi opens the door for them with a wide grin as they approach. Hyejin hugs her enthusiastically before calling out for Yongsun and disappearing behind the door, leaving Wheein alone out in the hallway, sheepishly trying to avoid Byulyi’s quizzical expression. 

 

“Everything alright, Wheein?” she says in a low voice, stepping out into the hall and partially closing the door behind her. 

 

Wheein takes a step back and scrunches her nose. “I’m fine, unnie. You’re being weird.”

 

Byulyi lifts a brow and looks frighteningly like Yongsun for a moment. “I’m not the one avoiding my friends, Wheeinie.” 

 

Wheein shrugs. “You’re not the one with a final exam next week either.” 

 

Byulyi studies her, as if probing for answers she already knows, and Wheein can’t help but squirm. Finally, she raises both hands in surrender. “Alright, alright,” she says in that obnoxiously knowing way of hers, “we’ll be here when you’re ready to talk.” 

 

Wheein rolls her eyes. “Since when did I get two sets of crazy parents.” 

 

“Since you encouraged Yongsun to keep me around,” Byulyi snickers. 

 

“Worst decision ever,” Wheein mumbles. But the smile threatening the corners of her lips doesn’t go unnoticed, and she screeches when Byulyi’s hand comes down on her head, ruffling her meticulously combed hair. “Unnie, stop!” she whines. 

 

“Let’s go,” Byulyi says instead, draping her arm around her. “Food’s getting cold.” 

 

Lunch ends up being a surprisingly less awkward affair than she anticipated. It’s easier to fall in rhythm with her best friend than making a monster of her in the distant dimness of the campus library. Yongsun, at the very least, doesn’t bring up the avoiding. There’s a look in her eyes, as she eagerly serves them the meat from their little electric barbeque grill at the center of the kitchen table, that reminds Wheein to talk to her. That she knows something is off, despite the smiling and the joking. 

 

And Wheein can’t help but relent. She slides her gaze over to Hyejin, who is animatedly talking to Byulyi about possible tile colours for the bathroom—who is absolutely inconsiderate of Wheein beside her when she flips her ponytail back and exposes the length of her elegant neck and the artistry of her jaw. 

 

Wheein looks away. 

 

Then, glances up to meet Yongsun’s twinkling eyes. With a wide smile, Yongsun lifts a piece of meat off the grill and onto Wheein’s plate. 

 

“Wheein-ah, you’ve been working too hard lately. Byulie and I have missed you. You’ve been eating, I hope?”

 

What Yongsun means is _I got you_ , and _I will tease you later_ and Wheein is oddly comforted by the thought. 

 

“Sorry, unnie,” Wheein says, chewing thoughtfully. With a straight face, she adds, “We can’t all be middle-aged ladies with no hobbies.”

 

“Wha—what’s that supposed to mean?” Yongsun splutters. 

 

Beside her, Hyejin’s rich laughter fills the air, and Wheein has to concentrate very hard on Yongsun’s red face to ignore it. 

 

“Well,” she goes on, “now that I’ve been on a triple date with you and your parents, and has had the misfortune of witnessing your practically married life for a year, I think I can safely say that you’re basically a middle aged woman.” 

 

“Hey!”

 

“That’s true!” Hyejin intercepts with a broad grin. “This probably speaks more about Byulyi unnie than anything else, but _no one_ likes Byulyi unnie more than middle aged women. It all makes so much sense!”

 

“Plus!” Wheein adds with building excitement, “you have tea regularly with your mother and Mrs. Lim and Mrs. Park. You can’t hide it from me, unnie. My mother is a blabbermouth, you know that.”

 

Yongsun looks up at Byulyi with such a horrified state of speechlessness then that Byulyi had to pull her close, and stroke her hair. “It’s okay,” the young painter tries to soothe, “aging is natural. We’re all just on this journey called life together.” 

 

“Yah!” Yongsun shoves her away, and slaps her lightly on the shoulder. “This is your fault! You’re the one who loves middle-aged women so much, you weirdo!” 

 

Byulyi smiles sheepishly, and it would be conspiratory if she isn’t so earnest when she says, “I’m in love with you though. And I’ll love you from now, through your middle age, and beyond.” 

 

Yongsun flushes crimson. “You greasy weirdo, you’re proving their point!” she huffs, sending a flurry of light slaps against Byulyi’s shielding arms, and sending her two younger friends into an uproar of laughter. 

 

In the unrestrained glow of happiness as Wheein wipes the tears from the corner of her eyes, she exchanges a wide, open smile with Hyejin, and decides that she _really_ likes her smile. 

 

And that small step of admittance—it feels okay. Like she has finally found her footing somehow. 

 

Like maybe she _had_ been overthinking. 

 

The next evening, Wheein decides to pay Yongsun a visit to make up for lost time. And not, of course, spy on their new friend or anything. 

 

She arrives just outside Yongsun’s building when she hears her name being called. 

 

“Wheein! Hey!” 

 

She turns, just in time to see exactly the person she _didn’t_ come to spy on. “Hyejin,” she greets coolly. But she’s all in her exposed-abs glory as she’s carrying a heavy-looking bucket of grey sludge, and Wheein has to really try not to stare—she really does—but her straining biceps and defined torso—it’s enough to make Adonis cry in shame. And she just kind of really wants to reach out and touch it. To see what it feels like. Instead, it takes all self-control she can muster to meet her twinkling eyes. 

 

“No potato song today?” Hyejin teases lightly. 

 

Wheein flushes, and continues walking, hoping she doesn’t see. 

 

“Aw, wait up!” Hyejin calls from behind her. 

 

She meets her inside the elevator, holding the door with her free hand as she grins down at Wheein. “You’re really skittish, aren’t you?” Hyejin says. She’s teasing her, but there was such an endearing quality to it, that all Wheein can do is stare at her shoes. 

 

“I hope you will talk to me again someday,” Hyejin says wistfully. Wheein sneaks a glance beside her to see that she’s still smiling despite the resignation in her eyes. “Yesterday was a lot of fun, you know?” 

 

“Yeah,” Wheein murmurs absentmindedly. 

 

Hyejin’s smile broadens. “Yeah,” she echoes.

 

Once Yongsun’s door opens, Wheein is immediately accosted into the kitchen, where her friend is watching her with a big—too big—grin. 

 

“What are you doing, unnie? You look super gross,” Wheein says with a deep frown. 

 

Amazingly, Yongsun’s smile manages to widen even more. 

 

“Wow, your mouth is huge. It must be like a black hole in there.”

 

But Yongsun ignores her. 

 

“Our Wheeinie has a crush,” she says instead. 

 

“Ew,” Wheein replies almost reflexively, crossing her arms, “Don’t project your weird sappy fantasies onto me.” 

 

“Wheeinie has a crush,” Yongsun repeats, grabbing her hands and swinging them between them. 

 

“I do not!” Wheein says, as firmly as possible to not betray her inner panic. She tugs her hands from Yongsun and scoffs. “I’m not as gross as you.” 

 

“Aish, when did you learn to talk like that?” 

 

“Just stating facts.” 

 

Yongsun shook her head and reached into her pantry to pull out a pack of cookies. “I bought these for you too—Wheein treats. Ah, but all you do is bully me.” 

 

Wheein scrunches her face and reaches out. “Gimme.”

 

“Say ‘treat, please,’” Yongsun teases. 

 

Wheein groans. “How does Byulyi unnie put up with you.”

 

“She has no trouble asking for treats.”

 

Wheein snatches the pack of cookies from Yongsun’s hand, and rolls her eyes at her friend’s pout. “I _really_ don’t need anymore disgusting imagery, unnie. It’s not fun now that you’re practically my parents.” 

 

“ _You’re_ no fun,” Yongsun mumbles. Still, she doesn’t hesitate to pull Wheein toward the table and sit her down with a mug of already-steeping tea. As a sign of camaraderie, she even reaches forward to open the pack for her. “I still want to talk about what’s been happening though.” 

 

“Oof, maybe I should’ve stayed home,” Wheein says, taking a bite out of the soft chocolate-chip sweetness. “It’s really nothing, unnie. I’ve just been really busy.” 

 

Yongsun rolls her eyes. “I’ve seen you at your busiest, so don’t lie. You’re upset Byulyi brought Hyejin into your life—you can’t hide these things from unnie.” 

 

“No,” says Wheein rather unconvincingly. 

 

“I’ve known you almost all my life,” Yongsun continues softly, her tone suddenly somber. “I know how much you hate change. But I really thought it might be a good experience for you. You’ve come to terms with yourself years ago, but you never _meet_ anybody.” 

 

Wheein shrugs. “People are terrible. And I have you, so it’s okay.” 

 

“Wheein-ah,” Yongsun says, resting her hand on Wheein’s forearm, “Hyejin is a good kid.” 

 

“Since you guys like her so much, I’m sure I’ll get used to seeing her around eventually,” Wheein replies, nonchalantly folding the plastic wrapper between her fingers to trap the crumbs inside. 

 

“She likes you.” 

 

Just like that the footing she thought she found crumbles away, insecurity buffeting her like an avalanche when she is reminded of the truth. The fantasy she had created in her desperation to _feel_. She’s been here before, and knows, just _knows_ , it’s too good to be true: real life goddesses don’t just waltz in ready to love. Especially not when your first meeting ends in a shamefully blank, drunken haze. 

 

Wheein meets Yongsun’s eyes then, with the kind of intensity that only comes with absolute certainty: “She doesn’t.” 

 

“Whee—”

 

“She doesn’t even know me. And you don’t know what happened.” How can she when even Wheein isn’t sure? 

 

“If you just let me—”

 

“Stop!” Wheein cries, far louder than her bursting heart intends. She shrinks back into her chair, her voice as small as she feels as she fights back tears. Yongsun has been her best friend for over twenty years, so why—why— “Why aren’t you on my side?” She doesn’t mean to say it, but her disappointment rushes it out in a need to be heard. “Why can’t you see things from my point of view?”

 

Wheein is nothing if not stubborn. That much she had enough self-awareness to understand. A lifetime of insecurity built up her walls and—it’s a habit, she supposes—she hangs onto them for life. 

 

As she storms out of Yongsun’s apartment, she hears her name and raises the walls higher. She jams her earphones into her ears and turns up the volume. Like a girl at the bottom of the well, she can’t see the world, and the rest of the world can’t see her. 

 

That evening, she is back at her comfortable nook in the library when she flips her phone over to see a succession of messages. 

 

Just after she stormed out, Yongsun writes, _I didn’t mean to take sides. I love you and I’m worried about you._

 

Five minutes later, _Talk again when you’re ready. I’ll be waiting._

 

The majority of her incoming messages, surprisingly enough, comes from Hyejin. 

 

_ Hey, are you okay? Sorry I didn’t hear you leave. I’m here if you ever need some company. _

 

_ Yongsun unnie seemed kind of upset. I hope you’re okay.  _

 

Ten minutes later, _Hey, do you want to hear a joke?_

 

_ What do you call a bee that produces milk?  _

 

_ Boo-bees.  _

 

Wheein snorts. 

 

_ I hope that made you smile.  _

 

_ Your smile is beautiful.  _

 

_ Sorry I’m leaving so many messages. You may not like me much, but I can’t help but worry about you.  _

 

Ten minutes ago, _I really hope you’re okay._

 

Wheein sighs. “What is this weirdo doing,” she mumbles, a smile faintly falling on her lips before her brain can pull it back. 

 

Reluctantly, she replies with a quick _I’m fine._

 

_ Good _ , comes Hyejin’s instantaneous response, _come to the park near Yongsun unnie’s apartment. I have something to make you feel better._

 

Wheein raises a brow. Hyejin has been nothing by polite, and to see her make such a bold demand suddenly it—it does something funny to Wheein’s stomach. 

 

_ Right now?  _

 

_ Yes. I’ll be waiting.  _

 

_ “ _ Something to make me feel better,” Wheein mumbles. Her mind, against her will, taunts her with close-up images of her sculpted arms and flat stomach. Of tangled limbs and the scent of her hair, vaguely nostalgic in her mess of fanciful memories. And if she can lift all that grey sludge, she could probably lift her up and—

 

Wheein shakes her head and glares down at her book. To go or not to go—she scribbles a quick pros and cons chart in the corner of her notebook, and pencils “fear” in bolded letters in the cons column. In pros, she, in a moment of honesty with herself, writes down “abs”. Tempting, she thinks, but it doesn’t outweigh the fear. She sticks “curiosity” between the two columns, and that doesn’t really help. 

 

“Sweet.”

 

“Stranger.”

 

She goes back and forth.

 

“Honest.”

 

“Intense.”

 

“Cute.”

 

“Too cute.”

 

“Bold.”

 

“Too bold.”

 

“Goofy smile.”

 

Her pencil stops, because she can’t help but think of the elevator ride and Hyejin’s big, open-hearted grin—just because she was polite enough to say a single word. 

 

What could she possibly have done to deserve the attention of someone so sweet?

 

With a final sigh, she writes “confusing” underneath “curiosity” and loops several dark circles around it.

 

_ [Hyejin sent a photo] _

 

Wheein glances over at her cell phone and frowns. What could it be now? Her thumb hesitates on the message, unsure if her emotions can handle the distraction of seeing Hyejin’s face while trying to solve this conundrum at the same time. 

 

Still, curiosity—and definitely not toned arms and defined abs—gets the better of her and she opens the message. 

 

Wheein barely manages to suppress the squeal when she sees the close-up pink nose of a fuzzy orange cat. 

 

_ Look who I found! _ Hyejin writes. _Come quick if you want to see him. I can only entertain him for so long!_

 

Wheein bites her lip. She shouldn’t—she really shouldn’t. Especially when her list is so far from giving her any answers. She reasons to herself that she is just going to see the cat and it’s harmless fun. It’s not a date or anything. 

 

Of course not, she decides as she shoves all her things inside her backpack. 

 

Not a date, she repeats to herself as she is walking, jogging, then practically sprinting over to Yongsun’s apartment. 

 

Hyejin is easy to find among the smattering of people in the park—all out for an evening stroll. 

 

The sky is orange and dimming, the street lamps turning on to take its place, but the wind is rustling through the trees and the park is humming with soothing energy. Ordinarily, it would be a wonderful place to decompress and forget your worries. Even better, the place had cats trotting around like they owned the place. 

 

But when Wheein found Hyejin on a yoga mat under the tree, cats—for once in her life—could not be further from her mind. Her skin-tight bicycle shorts and shirt-cropped-far-too-high invites her gaze and leaves little to her imagination. With her arms stretched and knees bent, her supple skin strains with quiet power, and it’s too much. It’s too, too much. This was truly, Wheein realizes in horror, a bad idea. 

 

Hyejin’s eyes are closed as she holds her pose—it’s technically not too late to run away. Wheein begins to turn then, but Hyejin rustles. She stretches upwards, then down, folding her body into downward dog. Wheein can’t help but trace the shape of her body with her eyes, can’t help but linger on the shapeliness of her strong thighs and perfect butt. 

 

In her peripheral, she can see that she’s not alone. A few guys mutter to themselves, stopping briefly to give Hyejin an appreciative gaze. Wheein wants to go over there and give them a good, swift kick them in the balls, but holds back when she blushes and realizes that she isn’t much better, so she settles for a glare that goes unnoticed. 

 

When Hyejin finally opens her eyes, she catches Wheein’s dark expression and straightens up. Tossing a glance over her shoulder, she sees the guys scamper off and grins brightly. 

 

“You came,” she says, holding back the excitement as much as she could. “I didn’t think you would come. You must really like cats.” 

 

Wheein’s attention snaps to her. No—it’s too late! She moans silently. “H-hi,” she mumbles. “What are you doing?”

 

Hyejin bends over to pick up her mat—Wheein’s eyes dart away in a panic when she catches the first glimpse of her chest—and begins rolling it up. “Just some yoga. I find that it keeps me limber, which helps with all the heavy lifting. Less chance of getting injured, you know?” 

 

“Did you just finish the bathroom?” Wheein asks. 

 

Hyejin ties up her mat and, to Wheein’s immense relief, pulls on a thin jacket. Wheein quietly hopes that she would zip it up, so she didn’t have to be so distracted by her everything, but no such luck comes to her aid when Hyejin jogs over and drops the rolled-up mat at her feet. 

 

“Yeah. We don’t have another job until next week, so it will give us a chance to relax for a bit. Um, I—sorry I couldn’t get the chance to say goodbye earlier,” Hyejin murmurs sheepishly, digging her hands into her jacket’s pockets. 

 

Wheein shrugs. 

 

“I do have a gift for you though.” 

 

Before Wheein can ask, she is frozen by a faceful of hair, soft skin against her cheeks, and strong arms pulling her close. She squeaks in her attempt not to whimper, and her hands reflexively go up to return the hug, but hovers above Hyejin’s shoulder slightly, unsure what to do. 

 

She smells like the ocean, and it makes her dizzy. 

 

And they fit against each other so perfectly. 

 

Oddly, it’s Hyejin who sighs, her breath so close to Wheein’s ear. A shiver runs down her spine when Hyejin’s lips brush the skin of her neck for the briefest of moments. 

 

“You looked like you needed a hug,” Hyejin whispers with a nervous chuckle. Nervous? Wheein lowers her hands onto her shoulder and Hyejin stiffens, then melts in her hands. _Melts_. 

 

“Maybe you’re the one who needed a hug,” Wheein teases shakily. 

 

Hyejin pulls her even closer somehow, and Wheein can’t help but worry that her legs will eventually give way. 

 

“Maybe I did.”

 

Wheein clears her throat—she presses a palm on her shoulder and tries to push her away, but either her strength is gone or Hyejin can’t take the hint. Maybe it’s a little bit of both. 

 

“Um, Hye—”

 

“Listen,” Hyejin murmurs. She relaxes her grip slightly, as if afraid Wheein would run away. “About that night…” 

 

“It’s fine,” Wheein says quickly. “We were both a little drunk and maybe the energy in the room was a little...yeah.” 

 

This time Hyejin does let go, but she doesn’t meet Wheein’s eyes, and Wheein finds herself drawing back into herself when, really, all she wants to do is reach out and take her hand. “Right,” she says, a steely edge to her voice. “If that’s what you want. I just...wanted you to know that...even if that night didn’t mean the same thing to you, I...I had a really good time and I had...really hoped that...it wasn’t a mistake.” 

 

This is the moment that Wheein had been dreading since their meeting—and subsequently coerced date—a week ago. It should’ve been easy to forget the details of that night when the two of them, walls torn open by the stuffy dinner with the expensive champagne, had gone back to Hyejin’s apartment to continue drinking in peace. The truth is that Wheein doesn’t remember how she even got there. All she can recall are blurry snapshots blending fantasy and reality, and waking up on Hyejin’s carpet in a panic. She was partly dressed and tangled up in Hyejin and nothing else seemed to make sense. But when Hyejin had smiled at her that morning and had sent her The Text, it was almost too perfect. 

 

So it was here, in the middle of the park, where Hyejin stood before her, looking more vulnerable than she thought possible for the normally confident girl, that she felt compelled to tell the truth. The partial truth. “I...don’t remember what happened,” she said. 

 

Hyejin whipped up to meet her eyes. “You don’t remember...anything?”

 

Wheein, in fact, thinks remembers the tenderest emotions, but she also remembers drinking way more than she should and convincing herself of things that were not necessarily real. Things like the affection in this stranger’s eyes. Or the way Hyejin kissed her like she was her universe. 

 

Wheein doesn’t trust herself to speak without opening her soul and revealing the deep vats of her loneliness, so she wraps herself in the partial lie that comes with the partial truth: “No. Nothing.” 

 

“I see.” 

 

Wheein begins to turn. This is the part where Hyejin leaves, she thinks. Perhaps if it were anybody else, she _would_ leave. Instead, Hyejin reaches out for her hand and—unlike Wheein’s silent, guilty, cowardly wanting—takes it. 

 

“Let me refresh your memory,” she says with a grin. 

 

Wheein looks down at their intertwined fingers. There is a sense of déjà vu, but also—“You...don’t give up, do you?” She murmurs. 

 

Hyejin shrugs sheepishly—her hand, Wheein notices then, is a little clammy. “I really like you, Wheein. That’s all. Can’t we get dinner? Together?” 

 

And when a girl like Hyejin looks at you the way she looked at Wheein right then—eyes turned up, heartbreakingly eager—it isn’t easy saying no. So Wheein steps forward and, if only to avoid her eyes, lays her forehead on Hyejin’s shoulder. 

 

“Okay.” 

 

Hyejin smiles against her hair. “Okay,” she echoes. “Let’s go.” 

 

It isn’t supposed to be a date—she told herself as much when she set off to the park—but, at the end of the night, Wheein can hardly remember the push and pull she had with her heart. Hyejin is so vibrant, so fun, and just so _wonderful_ that she truly has a way of putting you at ease. 

 

Dinner was simple—a local restaurant nearby whose owners knew Hyejin by name. They laughed, they drank, and it was just too, too easy being with Hyejin. And it really wasn’t until the very end of the night, when Wheein had, in a moment of slurred excitement, taken Hyejin’s hand and pulled her along as she ran down the dark, lamp-lit streets that déjà vu hit her once more. 

 

That’s when she remembers that her own apartment isn’t this way—she was pulling Hyejin toward _her_ apartment. Suddenly, she stopped. How did she know the way? 

 

“Wheein?” Hyejin asked, sounding perfectly sober as she slowed to a stop behind her. 

 

“Sorry, it’s just—” Wheein peers up and recognizes the cold fear in Hyejin’s eyes, as if she had just dug up a secret and laid it at her feet. 

 

“You do remember,” Hyejin breathes. She clears her throat. “But we—we don’t have to—”

 

Wheein looks up and around the empty streets, and recognizes a busted and faded sign missing so many of its letters: a “deal you can’t refuse” spelling the word “dare” in bold red colours. 

 

“I kissed you here,” she said into the night air. “In front of this sign.”

 

Hyejin nodded. “We did everything backwards that day, didn’t we?” She said with an uneasy laugh. 

 

But Wheein remembers: she remembers the butterflies, swimming around against current of liquor in her stomach, she remembers the sign—remembers wondering if this is what fate looks like—and most of all, she remembers Hyejin in her yellow dress, her heels in her hands as she falls against Wheein in laughter. She remembers the closeness of their faces, the strong grip on her upper arm, and the bristling electricity in her gaze, and how badly she wanted to capture her in that moment forever. 

 

And maybe it didn’t matter that they were strangers then. Maybe Wheein, drunk on the feeling of Hyejin more than anything, thought feelings alone could propel them into happiness. 

 

Maybe Wheein, drunk with want, had forgotten her own reality. 

 

“Hyejin,” she says now, letting go of her hand. “What are we doing?” 

 

“Having fun?” She replies hopefully, flexing her fingers at her side as if acclimatizing herself to the emptiness. 

 

“We...don’t know anything about each other.”

 

Hyejin shifts her gaze to her shoes. “But I want to. Know more about you, that is.”

 

“Why?” 

 

Hyejin lifts her head to meet her eyes with a smile. She runs a hand through her hair, and the simple action stirs all kinds of feelings in Wheein. 

 

“Because I really like you.” 

 

“I’ve done nothing to make you like me,” Wheein says slowly, ducking her eyes to work out her words without being so distracted by everything about Hyejin. 

 

“You don’t have to. I can’t explain it any more than that,” Hyejin said softly, her shoulders dropping slightly. “I just...have a good feeling about us.” 

 

“Hyejin, you’re...beautiful,” Wheein said, blushing in spite of the seriousness. “You could have anyone. Don’t...I mean—why waste time with me?” 

 

At this, Hyejin quirked a brow. “Wheein-ah, have you _seen_ yourself?” 

 

Wheein’s cheeks burn brighter than she thought herself capable. “W-well I—I—I’m not the one who looks like a Greek statue!” 

 

Much to Wheein’s surprise, Hyejin’s cheeks flare equally pink even in the dim of the evening. “W-what are you saying?” She mumbles, scuffing her shoes across the pavement. “T-that’s too much.” 

 

“I don’t know what I’m saying,” Wheein confesses. 

 

Hyejin reaches out for her, pauses above her hand, and tugs at her sleeve instead. “Do you still want to go back to my place? We’re close.” 

 

“I’m sober,” Wheein replies. It’s neither affirmation or rejection, and Hyejin tilts her head, waiting for her to work out the rest of her sentence. But she doesn't quite comprehend her own answer, doesn’t quite want to see the implications, though the pit of fear roiled inside, pulling her back from the edge of the cliff. 

 

Minutes pass, and it’s clear that Wheein isn’t going to elaborate. 

 

And so Hyejin makes the decision for her when she tugs her hand and says, “Let’s go.” 

 

Wheein doesn’t resist, even when her heart refuses to give in. 

 

“Don’t think about it,” is all Hyejin says on the short walk back. 

 

They’re silent still when they step into Hyejin’s dark apartment, where Hyejin kicks off her shoes immediately upon entering and crosses directly into the kitchen to retrieve two bottles of beer. 

 

Wheein takes it with a small but grateful smile, and looks over at the walls while Hyejin takes a deep swig. A cork board caught her attention as soon as she entered—she hadn’t noticed it last time, drunk as she was on everything around her. She steps closer to examine the string of Polaroid photos tacked onto the board. There were so many that they overlapped each other and fought for her appreciation. 

 

Wheein can’t help but notice the same girl showing up in many of these photos with Hyejin. 

 

“That’s a gift,” Hyejin murmurs from behind. “Sujung used to spend hours on that board. She’s a sap.” The added snicker is tinged with the kind of affection that claws at Wheein’s heart. 

 

“Is that the girl in these photos?” 

 

“Yes. We used to live together.” 

 

Wheein gasps. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” 

 

Hyejin quirks a brow and, in that way that she does, seems to know exactly what’s on Wheein’s mind. “We weren’t together,” she says, a small smile forming on her lips. “We’re just friends.” 

 

Wheein glances over at Hyejin, then down at the bottle in her hands. “Oh,” is all she hears herself say before she finds the courage to work through her own feelings about this revelation. The skepticism skittered around her thoughts. Perhaps a part of her was ready to dive into the unknown, but the missing pieces in her memory—

 

“Hey,” Hyejin calls gently, touching her elbow, “let’s sit down. Are you still hungry? I can make something.”

 

The missing pieces pressed against all of her edges, as they had been for the last seven days. It shouldn’t be surprising, perhaps, when Hyejin’s innocuous question ends up awkwardly opening the floodgates. 

 

“What happened that night?” 

 

Hyejin, who had been gesturing to the couch several feet in front of her, drops her arms. “That night?” 

 

“In here. Did we sleep together?” Her heart hammers wildly once the question slid out. The silence that followed is unbearable from the start. 

 

Hyejin met her eyes with an inscrutable expression. “Which answer will convince you to give me a chance?” 

 

“I just want to know the truth.” 

 

Hyejin tilts back her head with a sigh, her hands running through her wild head of hair with visible frustration. And Wheein knows she’s difficult. Knows she isn’t worth the effort, but she has to know what made Hyejin stay, even if for a little while. Even if she’s on the verge of pushing her away. 

 

“That night,” Hyejin begins slowly as she pulls Wheein over to the couch, “I told you a secret.” 

 

It doesn’t answer her question, but Wheein stays silent, listening, claws at her own unrelenting memory. She takes a careful sip of her beer to occupy her hands, and lets Hyejin’s gaze burn into her profile. 

 

“You...didn’t seem to care that day. You were just so...happy? Maybe that’s not the right word. Content? You, um, held me here on this couch and told me to tell you a secret,” Hyejin went on, waving her hand limply as she spoke. “And...now I don’t really know how you feel, so…”

 

“What was the secret?” 

 

At this, Hyejin rubbed her hands on the top of her thighs, a nervous gesture that immediately draws Wheein’s eyes downward. She peels her gaze back up to meet Hyejin’s eyes and, thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice. 

 

“Right. I guess I don’t have much to lose,” Hyejin murmured to herself. To Wheein, she seems to draw herself inward as she prepares for her confession. “The truth is,” she said with another sigh, “I...we met before.” 

 

“What?”

 

Wheein prepared herself for many different scenarios, but this—she whips back to face Hyejin with her whole body, ignoring the drop of beer that lands on her shirt. 

 

Hyejin wrings the hem of her sleeve. “I mean, we sort of met. You...don’t know me, but I...I’ve seen you around and I’ve liked you for...a while. So when I found out that you knew Byulyi unnie, I begged her to let me be your blind date. Of course, I hadn’t expected the whole anniversary thing, but I—”

 

“Wait, go back,” Wheein says. “You knew me? How? For how long?” 

 

“Um, okay, I’ll start at the beginning. Just,” Hyejin stands up and begins pacing back and forth in front of the couch, where Wheein follows her with her eyes, “I need to move. And think.” 

 

“I feel like I would’ve remembered you if we met.” 

 

“You don’t know me,” Hyejin repeats, “we haven’t met. I’ll start at the beginning. It’s, um, the first time I ever saw you was on the stairs outside the public library. You were reading something, and I nearly tripped on you while I was rushing down the stairs to meet a friend. Sujung, actually. She saw the whole thing. I even apologized to you, but you didn’t seem to hear me.” 

 

Wheein furrowed her brow. “This sounds a bit familiar, but this sort of thing has definitely happened a couple of times.”

 

“I, uh, thought you were cute, but I didn’t think much of it. A week later, I sat beside you in the library. I was worried about my course, so I didn’t recognize you right away, but you ended up falling asleep on your books beside me, and I...I don’t know. I started noticing you. It was...not hard because you spend so much time at the library.”

 

“Yes...I practically live there,” Wheein murmurs. 

 

“Well, every time I saw you,” Hyejin says with a small, sheepish smile, “I was just so...happy. You became an anchor, you know? I wished many times that you would notice me and talk to me. I wanted to know everything about you and I don’t know why.”

 

Wheein leans forward and reaches up for the edge of Hyejin’s jacket, and she stops pacing. She stands in front of her instead and drops her eyes to her feet when Wheein asks, “Hyejin, why didn’t you ever talk to me?”

 

“I don’t know,” Hyejin replies, raising her eyes slightly to meet Wheein’s. “I...couldn’t find an excuse. You’re so...so beautiful and smart and _everything._ I’ve seen you with your friends in the library once in a while, and you were just so _alive.”_

 

_ “ _ Aren’t you the one in medical school?” Wheein says with a small smirk that belies her own disbelief. “What are you doing at the library?” 

 

Hyejin groans and claps a hand over her eyes. “I...was hoping you’d forgotten that fact,” she says carefully. “I’m...technically not in medical school. I lied. I’m sorry, I guess I just...really wanted to impress you. I’m...studying to get in at the moment. They rejected me last year so I’ve been...trying. For what that’s worth.” 

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Wheein clears her throat. Confronted with exactly how _much_ Hyejin seems to like her, she doesn’t know what else to say. She rolls the bottle between her palms, wondering how on earth she didn’t notice a girl like Hyejin, and what the hell she did—besides sleep and drool all over her books—to deserve such undying attention. “So...how did you meet Byulyi unnie?”

 

“I needed a job, and she was looking for an apprentice. We hit it off and that’s that,” Hyejin says with a shrug. “It wasn’t long before I met Yongsun unnie. She’s pretty great.”

 

“And how did you find out about me?” 

 

“It was kind of an accident,” Hyejin says with a lopsided, wistful smile. “Yongsun unnie was showing me a bunch of pictures she took of Byulyi unnie’s dogs as puppies when she accidentally swiped too far and I saw a picture of the two of you. It just seemed like one of those random selfies and you looked kind of annoyed.”

 

“That sounds like every selfie she’s ever made me take,” Wheein scoffs. 

 

“I pretty much screamed. Unnie dropped her phone and screamed right back, and it was just a mess.” Hyejin shakes her head and exchanges a small smile with Wheein. “But it felt like fate, you know?”

 

“I can picture that,” Wheein returns. 

 

“Yeah...so...that’s it. I told you about this that night—maybe not with so many details—and...yeah.” 

 

“And?” 

 

Hyejin takes a breath and resumes her seat beside Wheein, their knees a breath away from touching. “And nothing else.” 

 

“Nothing?” But Wheein remembers waking up in her underwear, half-naked from the waist down, Hyejin beside her. She rummages her brain for a clearer image but comes up short. Maybe it didn't happen? 

 

“You fell asleep, if that counts. I had to change you out of your clothes because you spilled beer all over yourself when you fell asleep,” Hyejin explains with a chuckle. “It was cute.” 

 

“Right…”

 

“You wouldn’t let go of me either, so I carried you over to my carpet to be a bit more comfortably—I have a big shaggy carpet in my room, and we didn’t quite make it to the bed. You were like a koala.” 

 

“Aish…”

 

“But that’s it,” Hyejin finishes with a small smile. She chews at her bottom lip, as if tugging out one last secret, and finally takes a deep breath. “That’s it,” she repeats, “unless you count all the times you tried to kiss me.” Wheein’s eyes widen. “Believe me, it was tempting—you even succeeded once, but you fell asleep before it could escalate too far. I guess...to answer your original question, a minute more and we definitely would’ve slept together.

 

Wheein covers her eyes with a cupped palm. “That’s embarrassing. I thought I was a lot better at holding my alcohol.” 

 

“You drank a _lot_. You must’ve had a lot on your mind.” 

 

She glances up at Hyejin then from beneath her lashes then, and, taking a moment to find her voice, whispered, “Or maybe I was just nervous.” 

 

Hyejin inches a little closer, drawn in by the dark reflection in Wheein’s pupils. “Are you nervous right now?” She says, her voice low as she gently pries the green bottle out of Wheein’s fingers, replacing it with her own fingers. 

 

Wheein’s gaze flickers down to Hyejin’s lips before she can stop herself, and her heart pounds in terror at the sight of the small, disastrously attractive smirk playing on Hyejin’s lips. “You,” she starts, suddenly forgetting how to breathe as Hyejin draws closer still, “are really something.” 

 

“Do I make you nervous?” Hyejin asks, grin spreading. She rolls her thumb over the back of Wheein’s hand, neither pushing nor pulling, but steady, firmly anchoring her down. 

 

And it is this moment, while Hyejin is watching her so expectantly, her eyes asking more than her lips can brave, that Wheein feels a tug in her heart, as if she isn’t just anchoring her down, but taking her into the swirling depths of the sea with her. And it is in this moment that Wheein realizes she doesn’t mind. 

 

Her confession comes out in a breath: “Always.” 

 

“Really?” Hyejin’s fingers dance over to her wrist, marking her with gentle, crescent shapes. 

 

“You make me feel too much,” Wheein says with closed eyes. “How can this be possible?”

 

“Let’s go with it.” Hyejin grips her forearm and pulls her in, so close she can feel the puff of air in every heavy breath. “We can figure it out along the way. What do you say? Can I kiss you?”

 

She nods. 

 

The anchor drops—Wheein can almost feel the rush of cool as she leaps into the salt water, and the silenced world of two. She drives headfirst into the unknown, where Hyejin seems to be waiting with outstretched arms as she takes her in and kisses her lips. Reality peels away, and the silent ocean fills her heart and lungs, but where she expected to drown, she doesn’t.

 

Her pillowy red lips, and delicate touches pull her in like a maelstrom, but Wheein relaxes under her touch. She kissed her back, pushes her down, and lets herself fall. Slowly, she takes her in, and it’s like breathing for the first time. 

 

But, suddenly, Hyejin pushes back with her tongue. A hand slips down her back, and she is careful, but it’s enough to pluck Wheein out of the water and throw her into the flames of something else entirely. Wheein swallows the moan in her throat when Hyejin’s hands finds the back pocket of her jeans. 

 

Wheein, pulled taut by the intensity of this relationship, breaks the kiss, breathing heavily as she straddles Hyejin on her couch. Neither say a word for a long while, watching each other’s swollen lips and bursting chests like an impossible riddle. 

 

“How can I want you so much?” 

 

It’s Hyejin who speaks first, but it takes a moment for Wheein to realize she hasn’t vocalized her exact same thoughts. And she tilts her head and studies her. Her eyes trace the slight crease on her brow, doubled by her uncertainty, her nose, her lips, her jaw, down to her slender neck, her the swell of her breasts, and her perfect middle, so graciously displayed by her workout clothes. This time, Wheein lays a hand on her abs, her heart beating miles and miles per second as Hyejin watches her, almost shy toward admiration in Wheein’s eyes. 

 

“You’re a masterpiece,” Wheein murmurs, her fingertips skirting the soft skin of Hyejin’s stomach. 

 

Hyejin smiles and reaches up to brush Wheein’s cheek lightly with the back of her fingers. “If only you could see yourself the way I see you.”

 

Wheein’s returns her gaze to Hyejin’s face. “You’re no better than Byulyi unnie, are you?” 

 

“Oh, I’m so much more.” Hyejin laughs and, in one strong movement, pushes herself up and into a standing position, forcing a yelp out of Wheein when she reaches out under her and holds her close. Wheein wraps her legs around her instinctively, but pulls away to meet her eyes when she realizes how _secure_ she truly feels. 

 

In almost every way. 

 

“See? Superior.”

 

Wheein doesn’t say anything. She simply holds her gaze, trying not to drown when she sees all the affection transforming into worry inside Hyejin’s brown eyes. 

 

“Wheein,” Hyejin whispers. “Are you okay?”

 

Wheein nods.

 

“What are you thinking about?” 

 

Wheein relaxes her arms around Hyejin’s neck. 

 

“You,” Wheein replies. 

 

“Me? What about me?” 

 

“How can I want you so much?” Wheein echoes with a small smile. Stunned by the sound of her own words leaving the confines of Wheein’s thoughts, Hyejin nearly drops her. But when Wheein presses her fingers against the side of her jaw and pulls her into a deep, deep kiss, she tightens her hold against her, as if they could both melt into one. 

 

When they break away this time, there is something new, something fiery, in Wheein’s dark pupils, something Hyejin can find herself falling in love with very quickly. Especially when she leans into her ear and asks, “Will you show me your carpet again?”

 

It takes everything not to swallow the nerves welling up in her throat. 

 

“Y-yeah.” 

 

* * *

 

Two weeks later, Wheein’s phone practically rattles off her bedside table at the sheer number of messages coming in. She groans, and limply swipes in the general direction of her phone. It’s too warm and comfortable to try any harder, and she snuggles her face back into her pillow in the moment’s reprieve between each message. 

 

She’s almost asleep, when the voice beside her grumbles into her shoulder. “Can you please get that?” 

 

Wheein turns her head slightly and opens her heavily-lidded eyes to see the top of Hyejin’s messy head. She kisses it and stretches her arm out to take one more swipe at her phone. She pushes it further, and curses. Great. Now she has to leave her warm nest. 

 

Hyejin, smiling lazily against her skin, relaxes her arm around Wheein’s waist so she can stretch out to retrieve her phone. 

 

Wheein grabs it and immediately retreats back into Hyejin’s arms. She squirrels her way under the blanket and lays her head beneath Hyejin’s chin before finally checking her phone, cringing at the bright white light for a moment. 

 

“It’s Yongsun,” Wheein murmurs, rolling her eyes. 

 

“What does she want?” Hyejin asks, tilting her head back for a big, gaping yawn. 

 

Wheein scrolls. “Oh.” 

 

“Hm?”

 

“We missed brunch.” 

 

Hyejin rubs her eye. “What time is it?”

 

“Almost one.” 

 

“Oops.” Unconcerned, Hyejin kisses the top of Wheein’s head and pulls her closer. 

 

Wheein chuckles then as she reads through all 52 of Yongsun’s messages. “She thinks we died.” 

 

“I _am_ in heaven,” Hyejin says, smiling as she presses a kiss on Wheein’s nose. 

 

Wheein wiggles her nose. “That tickles.” 

 

Hyejin laughs. “Do you still want brunch?” 

 

Wheein shakes her head and tosses her phone back onto the bedside table after a quick message to Yongsun. She reaches up and kisses Hyejin, running a hand through her dark hair as she pulls her closer. “I can wait till dinner,” she mumbles against her lips.

 

Hyejin laughs once more, her vibration sending a warm tingling through Wheein. “Let’s do afternoon tea,” she says, running her fingers up Wheein’s back. “We can make it up to the two middle-aged women later.” 

 

Wheein frowns a little. “Two hours?”

 

“Not enough?” Hyejin asks, quirking a brow. “We’ve been at it all night.” 

 

Wheein blushes, hiding her face in Hyejin’s neck. “I want to sleep,” she mumbles. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

 

Hyejin laughs. “Sure,” she says, “whatever you want, my love.” 

 

And in her arms, Wheein—like so many times in the last two weeks—leaps into the ocean once more, headfirst and fearless in love. 

 


	20. This Feeling of Home by The Chainsmokers x Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeroes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the movie Becks (2018).

** Act 1:  **

 

My mother never believed I would ever become a successful musician. All I had was a guitar, and a couple of girlhood dreams. Like so many queer women before me, I just wanted to stand on that stage, proud, open, and free, and just bask in its light—and maybe, as a little added bonus, get a couple of beautiful girls to love me just a little more than the rest. 

 

This year, I’ll be 27. About ten years too late to start making it in any significant way. I’d puttered around, singing back up and joining bands and hanging out in seedy bars and—god, it’s been such a blur. It sucked—becoming the person everyone thought I was going to be when I announced I was going to play music for a living. When I finally packed up and went home, it was like a giant “I told you so” written across my forehead. My mother welcomed me back with open arms after almost a decade of fucking around in the big city, but I know that behind those twinkling brown eyes, there will always be that disappointment. 

 

I guess when you first see a child, you think about all the potential the kid could have, but as she gets older and older, her prospects get dimmer and dimmer. If I’m honest, I find my mother’s world—the real world, as she calls it—too complicated. 

 

I’m a simple woman. There are only two things I love in this life: music and women. 

 

And this year, for the first time in a long time, I just happened to have neither. 

 

I’ve spent a long time navigating my awkwardness throughout high school. You know that feeling you have that you’re different, but you’re in deep denial? Well, I dated guys until I was 19. Not a whole lot, but there was something about girls that seemed entirely too pristine to even think about. I was in love with so many of them, but I hoped and hoped it would pass. 

 

It didn’t, of course, and I think it was for the best. As soon as I came to terms with it, I started realizing that dating girls was just so much _better_. Problem was I never could tell if they liked me as much as I liked them. 

 

My friends say I love too easily. And they were right. 

 

Last year, I had everything. I was in a mildly successful band, I was singing duets with the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Was in love with the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. 

 

Then, suddenly…

 

She leaves. She signs on solo—the band falls apart. 

 

She fucks around, trades me in for a younger model—my heart falls apart. 

 

So, I went home. Left the big city and went back to live with my mother. I had nothing. What else was I supposed to do? 

 

 

** Act 2:  **

 

I’d been in town for about two weeks when I met _her_. 

 

The Fleur de Lis is a vintage shop near my mother’s place. I went in thinking the little money I had to my name would go a little further than my hopes.

 

I thought I was pretty lucky when my childhood friend, Hyejin, reached out to me and asked me to play some live music. I think I just looked so bored and dejected that she wanted something to keep my mind off things. So, on the weekends, I started playing in Hyejin’s bar and managed to rack up a smidge of cash. I figured I could spoil myself with some new clothes for a change. 

 

I tried getting students for guitar lessons too, but this crummy old town didn’t care about music. 

 

The Fleur de Lis, however, wasn’t exactly the place for unwanted rags. One glance at any tag and I wanted to cry. 

 

“Can I help you with anything?” someone said from the cash register. 

 

That was the first time I met Kim Yongsun. She was cute, I thought—anyone with eyes could see that, but I didn’t think much more of it then. Her big doey eyes studied me up and down—these small town girls have probably never interacted with someone like me. Someone as open and out as me to be exact. They were all high heels and summer dresses and I was all plaid shirts and skinny jeans. I stayed cool as much as I could. By this time, I had a ton of practice in ignoring pretty girls. Not to be trusted, my head would say, wagging a finger. My heart, of course, is in entirely the opposite and the wrong place.

 

“No,” I replied with a smile. “I thought I could afford at least a T-shirt, but it looks like even used stuff is a faraway dream.” 

 

“By the way, I saw you at The Pin-Up last night.” I caught her gaze just as her eyes darted away, disappearing into a curtain of hair. 

 

I tilted my head. “You don’t strike me as the kind of girl who hangs out there.” 

 

“You mean in gay bars?” Yongsun replied with a crooked smile. 

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I’m not. My boyfriend is out of town, so a couple of friends dragged me out.” 

 

Aha! My head said. I told you so.

 

Well, fuck you, my heart mumbled back. 

 

But there was something in her eyes, even then, the curiosity mixed with _something_ as she waited for my reaction. I shrugged it off. Reminded myself that straight women are bad, bad news. 

 

“Enjoy yourself?” I said, turning away and to a rack of jackets to my left. 

 

“Yes, you’re very good,” she said. I turned to give her a smile, just in time to see her teeth release her lower lip. I quirked a brow. 

 

“Thank you,” I mumbled. “Oh, um, if you want guitar lessons or something,” I said, patting down my shirt and pants for my makeshift business cards. “I have a card here somewhere.” 

 

At this, her eyes lit up. “Are you teaching guitar?” 

 

“Yep,” I said, finally producing a slightly crinkled card with my name and number scrawled on with a marker. “Hoping to make some money and get real business cards printed.” I gave her my card, and my best customer service smile. “Tell your friends.” 

 

“Moon Byulyi,” she read, holding the card between her fingers like a delicate biscuit. “Pretty name.” 

 

“Thanks,” I said with a wink. “Don’t suppose that gets me a discount for this”—my fingers glanced across the rack of jackets and pulled out a black leather jacket—“beautiful jacket. I can give you thirty bucks for it.” 

 

Yongsun crossed her arms and and shook her head. “You’d have to throw in one more zero,” she chuckled. 

 

“Not even if I tack on a couple of free guitar lessons instead?” I joked, hanging the jacket back on the rack and ran a hand over the cool material. 

 

“That...can be negotiable.” 

 

I turned to her then, my fingers still grasping at the hem of the jacket’s sleeve. She had a cute little side smile, like she was harbouring some kind of guilty secret. 

 

“Seriously?” I asked, quirking a brow. 

 

“I’ve always wanted to learn guitar,” she replied, her fingers following my path along the sleeve of the black leather jacket, stopping right above my hand, our finger touching ever so slightly. “Plus, this jacket really suits you.”

 

My fingers brush past hers to rest on the shoulder. “I don’t think you’ll need _that_ many lessons,” I said, shaking my head with a smile. “How about I give you lessons, you pay me normally and I’ll save up for the jacket myself?” 

 

“Yeah,” Yongsun said, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Guess that would be a much better business plan for the both of us.” 

 

“Yeah,” I echoed. I shoved my hands into my pockets and tried not to think about how cute she was. Tried not to think about how cute this straight girl with a _boyfriend_ is. So, I slouched back on the wall behind me, trying my best to be casual. I kept my eyes on the jacket, ignoring the prickle of her intense gaze. “When are you free to start?” 

 

“I’m free right now,” she said quickly. 

 

I laughed. “Don’t you have to run the store?” 

 

She blushed. “Right. Maybe not.” 

 

It was just too good to be true, I told myself, shaking my head. 

 

But then she did that awful thing where she stares right into your soul and messes it all up without even realizing, and it’s so earnest and sweet and shy. “I close up at five. Do you think we can...start today?” 

 

And maybe I was just a little too excited at the prospect of gaining my first ever student that I forgot I was pretending to be cool and casual when I bounced off the wall and grabbed her hands. “You’re serious?” I said, beaming. My face must’ve been so damn stupid. 

 

She slipped her hands out of mine in a hurry and cleared her throat. “Y-yeah.” 

 

Somehow, I didn’t notice the nervous stutter. Instead, I thought it would be better if I pick up one of her hands again without her consent and shake it with a single, firm handshake. “I’ll see you at six then?” 

 

She nodded. 

 

“My place isn’t convenient,” I told her, thinking about my nosy mother with a shudder, “so how about the park? Meet you at the fountain?”

 

“O-okay. Yes! I mean, y-yes, I’ll see you there!”

 

Ah, my first student. If only I knew then what this moment of success would bring.

 

 

** Act 3: **

 

It was only noon, so I decided to drive around to the Pin-Up and see my old friends. And maybe distract myself from the pretty girl at Fleur de Lis with a big ol’ American cheeseburger. 

 

“Back so soon?” Hyejin called out at me from the bar. “You missed me that much, did you?” 

 

I laughed and slid into one of the less-ripped green stools at the bar. “Nah, not you, just your food and your pretty girlfriend,” I said, blowing a kiss at the girl stacking chairs at the far end of the room. She scoffed, but blew a kiss back just the same. 

 

“Oi,” Hyejin said, whipping a rag in my direction, “leave Wheein alone.” 

 

I rolled my eyes. “How can you still be so protective after ten years? It was _exhausting_ watching you two dance around each other when you were fifteen. Don’t tell me you’re still worried about _me_?” 

 

“To be fair,” Wheein piped in, her voice echoing across the empty bar, “I did kiss you to see how Hyejin felt. And we _technically_ dated.” 

 

“We dated for three hours, Wheein,” I said, snickering. “And all that got me was a black eye and a broken friendship.”

 

“I said I was sorry,” Hyejin grumbled, rolling her eyes. She then set a freshly cracked open bottle of beer on a coasted in front of me. “By the way, haven’t gotten a chance to say this, but we’re both happy to have you back. How long are you thinking of sticking around?” 

 

I took a swig and shrugged both shoulders. “Honestly? No idea. Hopefully not forever in my mom’s basement.” 

 

“That’s a solid goal,” Hyejin said, nodding. “By the way, cheeseburger?” 

 

I nodded and thanked her. Wheein disappeared into the back without a word, and for a moment I couldn’t help but admire their synchronicity. 

 

“There isn’t really anything for me in the city, you know? But I don’t know what’s here for me either.”

 

Hyejin put down the glass she had been polishing. “You know, I think a bit of small town vibe will be good for you. Everyone’s got those big dreams and big plans and it’s like the only way to be anywhere close to successful is to get out of here, and that’s just not true.” 

 

“Well, if you want to be a musician,” I said after another swig of beer. 

 

“Who's to say you can’t while you’re here? DId you _see_ how many tips you got last weekend?” 

 

“It was more than I expected,” I said, nodding, “but I went to a _thrift_ shop today and couldn’t afford a goddamn thing. I can’t live on tips, Hyejin. Eventually, they’ll get tired of me and my music.” 

 

Hyejin scoffed, and poured a glass of whiskey for herself. “As if you’d let them. You want to keep pretending you’re that shy, awkward teenager, but I think you underestimate your own sense of showmanship and—it pains me to say it—your magnetism. Don’t give me that fucking grin. I honestly don’t know what girls see in you, but you seem to be able to bring them in like flies to honey. To be fair, gay musicians aren’t exactly in huge supply over here.” 

 

“We’ll see,” I chuckled. Though I didn’t want to show it, I felt lighter. Light enough to share the other issue on my mind. “By the way, I got my first guitar student.” 

 

Hyejin raised a brow. “Yeah? Who is it?” 

 

“Aren’t you going to congratulate me?” 

 

“Gotta see who it is first,” Hyejin replied with a smirk. “Could be sending you my condolences instead.” 

 

“It’s the girl at the thrift shop. She was sweet. Her name is Yongsun.” 

 

Hyejin lowered her glass from her lips. “Thrift shop? You mean Fleur de Lis? That’s a _vintage_ shop, you idiot. No wonder you couldn’t afford anything! And I’m impressed you managed to scam Kim Yongsun into being your student.”

 

“Excuse me, she said she was a fan of my music, so she wanted to learn.” 

 

Just then, Wheein came out with a beautiful plate of food, but, hearing our exchange, decided to withhold it from me and stand there with a hand on her hips instead like the mean waitress I know she can be. “You better not have any funny ideas about her,” she said, waving her finger. “That girl’s as straight as an arrow.” 

 

“Yeah,” Hyejin said, nodding, “her boyfriend is really nice and really rich.”

 

I stood up and snatched the plate from Wheein’s hands, then brought it back to my original seat. Popping a french fry in my mouth, I said, “Oh-kay...I don’t know why you two sound so worried. I know she has a boyfriend? It’ll be a strict teacher-student relationship—no more, no less.” 

 

Hyejin sighed. “Again, you underestimate your own magnetism.”

 

“Yeah, just don’t get too carried away with that feeling in your chest,” Wheein added. She came around the bar and threw an arm around Hyejin’s shoulder. “If things go sideways, don’t say we didn’t warn you.” 

 

Hyejin laid her head against Wheein’s. “Yeah, wouldn’t want to see you with a black eye all over again.” Though it was a joke, her expression was genuinely grim.

 

I laughed it off. “It’ll be fine, you two. I’m a big girl now. Hey, cheer up. Let’s talk about something else. I’ve been getting some hot gossip from my mom’s ladies’ group.”

 

Wheein and Hyejin exchanged one last look, and, to my inexplicable relief, dropped the topic altogether. 

 

 

** Act 4: **

 

I was about half an hour early and not completely sober enough to worry about the empty streets. I sat down at the silent fountain and perched my guitar on my knee. The melody emptied itself out of my head, and very quickly the words followed without thought. Hazy with the alcohol in my system, lit up by the music in my soul, I sang the first words to come to mind. 

 

“I’ll tell you a story,” I murmur, strumming callously, “before it tells itself. I’ll lay out all my reasons, you’ll say that I need help.” 

 

The empty park echoed every strum, resonating with the empty feeling suddenly filling me up as I tried to expel the song from my head. “We all got expectations, and sometimes they go wrong. But no one listens to me, so I put it in this song.” 

 

I thought of the industry, hell-bent on pushing me into the back. 

 

I thought of the bitch who broke my heart. The hole in my heart I thought I’d filled. 

 

“They tell me: think with my head, not that thing in my chest. They got their hands around my neck this time.” I strum a little louder, standing now on the edge of the fountain. “But you’re the one that I want, if that’s really so wrong, then they don’t know what this feeling is like.” 

 

I thought of the music, and a glimpse of soulful brown eyes. 

 

I thought of leaping, jumping, flying, soaring, dreaming. So I did—off the fountain and onto the gravel with a crunch. 

 

“Think with my head,” I murmur, the crescendo of my strings building higher than the words could catch up to my memory. “Not with that thing in my chest.” 

 

“You’re the one that I want” — my eyes flew open at the sound of the new voice — “if that’s really so wrong, then they don’t know what this feeling is like.” 

 

In front of me stood Kim Yongsun, hitting every note somehow striking more than just perfect pitch. With her hands clasped in front of her and the faint glow of the fountain casting some sort of otherworldly whiteness to her skin, she looked like an absolute angel. 

 

“They don’t know,” I crooned alongside her, matching her soft alto with my harmony. “Hey, ey, yeah...They don’t know.”

 

When the song came to an end, she clapped and did this cute little hop-dance thing, and I couldn’t help but smile. 

 

“That was amazing!” Yongsun cried, beaming. “You were playing so many folk songs that night—I never would’ve guessed you’d be a Chainsmokers type of girl too.” 

 

“Is that what that is?” I said with a smirk. “It was stuck in my head.” 

 

“You didn’t know?” 

 

I shook my head. “I just kind of remember songs better than anything else, so most of the time I don’t even know where I heard it from,” I said truthfully. “DId I get it right?” 

 

“I don’t think so,” Yongsun laughed. “But I like your version more. It’s easier to sing without all the thump-thump-thump in the background. 

 

“That’s called bass,” I teased. “Looks like we have way more work ahead of us than I thought!” 

 

“Hey!” Yongsun cried, puffing out her cheeks. I poked her cheek—I couldn’t help it; I didn’t even think about the gesture until she looked up at me from under her lashes, faintly pink in the disappearing daylight. 

 

Clearing my throat, I let out a nervous chuckle in attempt to laugh it off. “That’s what you get,” I said shakily. “You shouldn’t be rude to your teacher!” 

 

“I hope you don’t treat all your students this way,” Yongsun replied, tucking her hair behind her ear. 

 

“Hm, well,” I said in my best philosophizing voice, stroking my chin with my thumb and forefinger, “if you’re my only student, does that mean I treat all my students this way?” 

 

Her eye widened. “I’m your only student?” 

 

“Yep. You’re pretty special,” I said with a grin. 

 

“Wow.” 

 

Suddenly she studied me with such an intense expression that I didn’t really know what else to do with myself. I wish I knew what she was thinking then, but all I could do was remind myself over and over that she had a boyfriend. 

 

“S-so, um, ready to get started?” I asked, rubbing my clammy hands together. 

 

“Yeah,” she said, smiling, “let’s do it.” 

 

I gestured toward the fountain and handed her the guitar. She took a breath, cradling the guitar like something far more precious than it really was. “Don’t worry,” I said softly, sitting down beside her so our knees were almost touching, “guitars can be surprisingly sturdy. Just don’t smash it over my head, and you’ll be fine.” 

 

“No promises,” she said with a grin as she gave the guitar a tentative strum. 

 

God, she was so cute during that first lesson. 

 

It took everything to not look at her lips while she hummed over the strained chords. The slight furrow in her brow, and the pink tip of her tongue as she tried to stay calm despite all the mistakes and the frustrations—everything about her was so distracting. 

 

And the way she looked at me, to me, and through me—everything about her was fucking me up. 

 

Little did I know what an understatement that was about to become. 

 

Even in that first lesson I knew that she was dangerous; she made it too, too easy to forget everything else. The the crushed dreams, the broken heart, and, most of all, the giant, giant red flag. 

 

 

** Act 5:  **

 

The lessons went on week after week, just like the performances both in and out of the bar. Hyejin and Wheein has been watching me closely ever since they saw the Yongsun and I together after a performance two weeks ago. They tell me at this point it’s too late to play the denial card, but hey, it’s not like I didn’t try. Over time, I even met a couple other girls. We had our fun, but my heart just won’t let it go. 

 

I still haven’t seen the boyfriend. Apparently he went to school with one of Hyejin’s sisters, and yeah, it seems like everyone from Hyejin’s sister to my mother is waiting for him to propose. I’ve often wondered whether Yongsun was waiting for it too, but it didn’t seem like it. I don’t really know _what_ she’s waiting for. 

 

It seems he’s been home for a while, because Yongsun has cancelled on me three times now. Each time, it never fails to bring me back down to earth, and yet whenever I see her face, it’s like I’ve learned nothing from all of my failures. 

 

Today is the day of our debut as a duo at The Pin-Up. She was reluctant, as most new musicians are, but I’m convinced it’s just what I needed to find closure. Besides, she was, at that point, already way past good enough for the stage. 

 

“Think of this as the final exam,” I told her. “Once this is over, I will officially have nothing else to teach you.” 

 

Her face had fallen. “I think there’s always something else you can teach me...unless you don’t want to teach me anymore?” 

 

I shook my head with a smile. “Hey, don’t look at me like we can’t be friends after this. You have to do this. You have to show me all of these lessons haven’t been a waste.” 

 

She didn’t say anything, but the slight, silent nod seemed to speak volumes in a language I didn’t understand. 

 

But I didn’t care. I needed an out. We were too far into our friendship to simply run away. Somehow, she had become my best friend and confidante, which made everything so much scarier. It was a precarious relationship built on feelings that shouldn’t exist. At any moment, I thought everything would fall apart. I needed the distance more than anything. I needed closure to shut my heart up. 

 

As I’m standing at my mirror in my shirt and underwear, I feel entirely unprepared to face her tonight. It’s not the first time that I’m so caught caught up in my own head that I don’t know what to expect, but just picturing her face now makes me a little weak. 

 

Oh, did I mention her boyfriend is coming tonight? If we look at each other on that stage the way we look at each other during practice, any red-blooded man would definitely break every bone in my body. 

 

I stare back at my own face, wondering how I ended up in this situation, and how pathetic it is that I’m always so short-sighted. I’ve never been good at seeing past my feelings. If I did I probably would’ve listened to my mother and became an accountant. By now I would have a steady, well-paying job and maybe even someone who loves me. All I’ve got now is a tip jar and a crush.

 

I guess it could be worse, I sigh, reaching for my pants. I pull them on and brush my hair back and hoped to god our relationship wasn’t built on sand, because I’m pretty sure my feelings are about four-five seconds away from crashing down like a tsunami. 

 

—

 

It’s friday night and the bar is packed. Women from three towns over drove all this way to be here, yet all I can see as I’m scanning the bar is the only man in the room, sitting alone all dressed in white underneath the neon sign. Of course he’s nice and rich _and_ good looking, I think, narrowing my eyes in his direction. He’s studying the room pensively, the king of the hill suddenly a fish out of water. Suddenly he spots me, and his face lights up with a boyish grin that I want to punch off his face. I duck eyes down at my beer like it can somehow make me invisible. 

 

But far too soon, he’s right there. “Hi!” He says, “are you Miss Moon? The guitar teacher?” 

 

“Yeah,” I said, plastering on my best business smile. “Can I help you?” 

 

He introduces himself, but I don’t catch his name—seeing his face up close has a way of sparking my imagination. I conjured about fifteen ways he could die right in this moment, including a scenario involving a freak thunderstorm knocking the roof off the building, causing the whole ceiling to collapse just on him. 

 

“I just wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for Yongsun.” Oh, he’s still talking. “She’s been...different since you brought music into her life. Happier, somehow, and...yeah, I’m happy to see that she will be in good hands.” He looks up at me, but his eyes are far away, as if searching for something I cannot see. But as quickly as it came, the moment is gone, and he is smiling again, his perfect white teeth absolutely blinding against his white suit. “Yongsun will be here soon,” he says, turning to return to his table. “I’m only here to see her performance, but I’m glad to meet you before I go. I hope you take...take care.” 

 

I raise a brow at the strange interaction, but Yongsun comes rushing in through the front door in that moment and I don’t dwell on it. All I can see is her beautiful red dress and elegant waves. We exchange a smile from across the room—I raise my glass to her—and the boyfriend fades to dark. She strides toward me, ignoring the whispered voices all around, and I can’t keep my eyes off her. 

 

If she so much as breathes, I’m bound to her for the rest of my life. God, what am I supposed to do when this night ends? 

 

“Are you ready for the big show?” I say, leaning back against the bar so I don’t betray the weight on my chest. 

 

She shakes her head vigorously. “No!” she grumbles, gripping onto her almost brand-new guitar—it’s vintage, she said. 

 

“It’ll be just like we practiced,” I chuckle. I held up my bottle of beer, she took it without looking, happily gulping down the rest of its contents in a hurry. “Nothing a bit of liquid courage can’t fix, huh?” I tease. 

 

She sticks out a tongue and it’s just too cute, so I start waving Hyejin down. I already know what’s next before she can say “Buy me a drink!” Hyejin looks between us with a quirked brow. 

 

“Peach drink again, I’m assuming?” She says with a smirk. 

 

“Don’t judge!” 

 

“Fine. But only because you’re so pretty,” Hyejin adds with a wink. 

 

It takes an enormous amount of sheer willpower to stay silent. Two pairs of eyes seem to watch me expectantly, but I simply shift my eyes to gaze longingly at my now-empty bottle of beer. 

 

“It’s almost showtime,” I suddenly say, checking my invisible watch. “You better not get too drunk to play.” As she receives the can from Hyejin, I give her a playful knock on the knees with my own. 

 

She pouts. “I need this, Byul.” 

 

“Yeah, relax,” Hyejin adds with a grin. “You’ve still got fifteen minutes, and your groupies just arrived.” 

 

“Groupies?” Yongsun says, brows raised. 

 

I almost forgot that she hasn’t been coming to the Pin-Up since the boyfriend came home. I see her almost every day for our lessons, and it always feels like a private performance, so I didn’t think much of it until now. 

 

Besides, I wouldn’t call them groupies, I want to say. They were just a couple of over-excited young girls. 

 

But Yongsun is looking off into the crowd, where the girls are jumping up and down and trying to swim through the wall of people to get to me. “Here they come,” she says with a snicker. 

 

“Oh no.” 

 

As they approach, my ear is shot off by a high-pitched squeal. I smile uneasily back at them, casting a look at Yongsun, who sips quietly at her peach drink as she watches us with interest.

 

We exchange a couple of vapid lines, and it’s an exhausting ten minutes before they leave us alone. Funnily, they didn’t seem to know what to say to me, and I definitely didn’t know what to say to them. I tried, at some point, to compliment a wrist tattoo one of them has—I lifted up her hand to admire it, which, in hindsight,was probably not a good idea—and it shocks them into silence somehow. I looked over at Yongsun again, who was moments away from bursting into laughter. But the awkward conversation quickly resumed when wrist tattoo girl suddenly, sparing a quick glance at Yongsun, declared her love. It wasn’t the first time. I gave her the same response I gave everyone else: “I’m sorry, but I need to focus on music right now.” The same lie. Still, they came away with all smiles and autographed arms and everyone was happy. 

 

“Sorry,” I don’t know why I say to Yongsun. 

 

“You need to focus on music, huh?” She says, a finger to her chin. “Are you really not looking for a girlfriend then?” 

 

“We really need to go,” I say hurriedly. I slide off my seat, but don’t get very far when she grabs my upper arm. 

 

“Byul.” Her gaze is intense, and I can’t hold it no matter how much I want to. “You’re a rockstar now. You can afford to be a minute late and answer my question.”

 

“I don’t want to get into a relationship with a fan,” I sigh. 

 

“I’m a fan.” 

 

“You’re different,” I say. You’re my best friend, I want to add. But she’s studying me closely, and there’s something about her that makes it hard to say those innocuous words, as if they would be the words to break us apart. 

 

So, I shake my head, grab her hand instead, and head toward the stage. 

 

On that little platform in the pitch black, a single bulb above us, we play our song. The world seems to fall away as we strike the strings and stamp our feet, grinning wide at each other like we were the only two people in the room, like we do when we are at the park or in her living room. And the way our voices melded together—it’s like we were never meant to be apart. 

 

At the end of our original set, I whistle the bars of a familiar song. My fingers, as if by magic, follow along before I can even process what I started. Yongsun watches me with a tilted head. 

 

“Alabama, Arkansas, I do love my ma and pa, but not the way that I love you,” I sing with a grin. I pause, holding the note until She catches my eye and mirrors my grin. We’ve practiced this song a million times in our quiet times. 

 

Tapping the side of her guitar to match the beat, she doesn’t disappoint. “Holy moly me oh my, you’re the apple of my eye...girl, I never loved one like you.” 

 

My heart warms at her expression, somehow so familiar but so different in this light. But I go on, the lyrics revealing themselves like my deepest secrets. “Man, oh man, you’re my best friend, I scream it to the nothingness—there ain’t nothing that I need.”

 

“Well,” Yongsun laughs, “hot and heavy pumpkin pie, chocolate candy, Jesus Christ—ain’t nothing please me more than...you.” 

 

The chorus hits us like a rush of cool water on a hot summer’s day: “Home, let me come home! Home is whenever I’m with you! Home, let me come home”—I slow down the rhythm, her voice falls away, and I say, “Home is whenever I’m with you.” 

 

She smiles, wider than I’ve ever seen her smile, and we finish the song to resounding applause, but all I can see is her and her eyes. I don’t remember bowing, don’t remember leaving—all I remember are voices all around us then: silence. 

 

The two of us alone at the bottom of an abandoned set of stairs. Her, whispering the last line as she smiles up at me with crescent eyes: “Home is when I’m alone with you.” 

 

In that moment, my thoughts empty and my heartbeat resounds—the music from the bar a distant thrum as I hold her eyes. Our chests rise and fall to the rhythm of our souls and I want so badly to—so badly to—

 

She grabs me by the face and kisses me first, the force of it sending me stumbling backwards against the wall, and all at once the unresolved feeling, months and months of pushing and pulling and wanting and—it all falls into place. 

 

I kiss her back like I was born for this moment—I push back, press her against the wall, and little moan that escapes her throat triggers one of my own. She arches her back, our hearts beating against each other in a race to infinity as my hand finds the soft skin of her hips. 

 

Heavy breaths and unravelling feelings—everything escalated so fast, and at the very end, with her forehead against mine and her cheeks glowing pink as she tries to catch her breath, I apologize. 

 

“Don’t,” she says, her hand reaching up to cradle my cheek. “You’re...everything I’ve ever wanted.” 

 

It’s too soon—it’s too soon, but the words slip out before I can reel them back: “I love you.” 

 

Her eyes open slowly, and her lips curl into a smile. “I love you too,” she says. 

 

I thought my heart would soar, would beat a little faster. I thought I’d be surprised, but the words sound like a familiar song, like I’ve heard it a million times, like I’ve known the words all along. I wrap my arms around her and kiss her again, softly this time, for a question still remained. 

 

“What are we going to do?” I murmur against her lips. 

 

“What do you mean?” she says, eyes boring into my own. 

“You...you’ve got a great life here,” I say, pulling back to hold her chin. “I don’t want you to lose it all because of me.” 

 

“Will you leave?” The question catches me off-guard. “Go back to the city?” she elaborates. I haven’t thought about the city in quite some time, and I tell her as much. 

 

She lays her head on my shoulder. “He proposed to me,” she says. My heart sinks into a black hole, and I swallow, unsure what else to say. “Again. He told me he could give me everything.” She pulls back then, and holds my hand with a small smile. “I told him he couldn’t give me you.” 

 

“Oh.” 

 

“He knew, you know.” 

 

“He did?” 

 

“The way I talked about you,” she says, pulling me into an embrace. “I talked about him the same way when we were 19 and in love.” 

 

“You’ve been together...for ten years?” 

 

She nodded against the fabric of my shirt. “But I never wanted to marry him—we’ve talked about it so many times, but I...I just didn’t want it. I never understood why until I met you.”

 

“I’m...I’m so sorry.” 

 

She shakes her head. “It’s...a long time coming. Everyone suspected something was wrong when we didn’t get married right out of high school. I guess the two of us have just been in denial for so long, we’ve forgotten what a relationship is supposed to be like.” 

 

“But...ten years.” 

 

“We’ll be okay, Byul,” she smiles, “we’ve got decades ahead of us to make up for lost time. Since he’s been back, we’ve been trying to figure it out, and, well, I still love him in a different way. I think...it was mutual.” 

 

I replay my short interaction with him from what felt like hours ago, and suddenly it make so much more sense. I replay every interaction I had with Yongsun from the beginning, and it all makes sense. 

 

“I...can’t give you all the things that he’s given you,” I say slowly. “But I can promise you that I will always try.” 

 

“I don’t care,” she says wrapping her arms around my neck. “As long as I’m with you, as long as you’ll have me, we’ll figure it all out together.” 

 

“As long as I’m with you,” I reply with a grin, “I’m home."

* * *

 


	21. Caddo by @yongonyong

This story attempts to tell the full story of [Caddo](https://twitter.com/yongonyong/status/1053292679830765570), a two-part comic by @yongonyong.

 

**Wheein**

On the first page of their story, they meet inside the beginnings of a dream. She is only a baby, and they—young as they were—are oblivious to what the world has to offer, oblivious to the way their hearts would beat in sync, mere miles away from each other. She is content with food and warmth, far too young to understand what she is waiting for. And yet she cries when the warmth of a bottle of milk isn’t quite enough. She cries and reaches for comfort in the shape of a shaggy-haired lion with a lazy smile. There is a drop of something—an unknown stain—on the side of the lion’s mouth. The littlest speck of imperfection—caused by too much love over the years—sits on the mysterious black dot on the lion’s cheek. And yet she doesn’t mind. Somehow, even then, she loves her lion with all its imperfections—even after all the patches and all the obvious attempts to keep the stuffing inside over the years. Somehow, she knows that those imperfections made it hers. When she sleeps, she dreams of the mighty lion and the soft, soft fabric beneath her little fingers.

 

**Hyejin**

On the first page of their story, they meet inside a dream. She is only a baby, but images swirl around her mind. She doesn’t have the words to speak them yet, but the world and its colours are brilliant in her curiosity. She watches the world roll by with eager eyes, as if she knows that someday she will go on to conquer it all. But the things that make her happiest are simple still. Her neighbour has a little yellow dog, and she reaches out for it every time they pass. She wants to hold it, feel it’s fur against her skin—see, touch, feel the world beyond the images from inside her stroller. But when she is allowed to get close, she drops her hands and cries because she is scared. As she gets older, she will learn to get closer, learn to understand its cues and its ways of thinking. She will learn to offer kindness, then love. For now, it simply makes her happy from afar. When she sleeps, she dreams of the yellow dog, curled up beside her, and the soft, soft fur beneath her little fingers.

 

**Wheein**

In a few more pages, she’s ready for school. The world is different now, already far more complicated outside of her crib and lion. She likes to draw—it’s easier than speaking. Sometimes the words don’t come out; sometimes she doesn’t think the world wants to hear what she has to say. And when she draws, the abstract lines and colours inside her brain take physical form. Her ideas make sense, contained on those white pages. They don’t hear her—they never did—but when they look at her pictures, it almost feels like they do. At the very least, they praise her work. At the beginning, while she is still young, they think they understand those lines, believes them to be more than they are, and at five years old, she hasn’t learned to object.

 

School is a whirl of new complications. She doesn’t know anyone, and doesn’t want to. She sees the other kids laugh and the other kids fight. She sketches it all down on paper, just tangled colours still, and keeps to herself. It’s easier and far less confusing. In this moment, it’s enough.

 

Until the day someone shows her it isn’t. She is drawing on the floor when a shadow appears beside her. It’s breathing loudly and crunching down on something. She looks up—sees the scruffy head of hair, the lazy smile, and the dark crumbs sprinkled on the cheeks. “Lion?” She says in utter disbelief. The other girl blinks. “I’m not a lion,” she says. Then, “Do you want a cookie?”

 

**Hyejin**

In a few more pages, the seasons are changing. She goes to school and discovers the power of words. The power to draw in, to divide, to build, and to collapse. Other children flock to her, and she watches them, wonders at the extent of her power sizzling at her little fingertips. She watches the world from on high, and they all look back up at her. All except one. A little girl surrounded by pictures; a little girl who only ever looks down. She doesn’t know the words to describe how she makes her feel—she thinks of the yellow dog. She wants to get closer, but something holds her back. She doesn’t understand her: doesn’t understand her cues, can’t see the thoughts jumbled in her brain. Everyone is so predictable. At this age it’s easy—snacks, naps, teddy bears and holidays. But her—does drawing make her happy? Does she have any friends? Does she like cookies? She wants to know, wants to get close. Wants to tell her that she makes her happy, and it’s not enough to wonder from afar.

 

One of the happiest days of her life was when she fed her neighbour’s dog a treat out of her hand. It was both terrifying and exhilarating, and somehow it’s all the more so when she approaches the girl and holds out a cookie.

 

**Wheein**

Fast-forward to middle school, she approaches the front gate. Ever since kindergarten she has been moving around the country. Only a week after meeting the girl with the wildest hair—an image of her offered cookie still emblazoned in her mind—her family moves. They go to Seoul, but it doesn’t last. They try Singapore, then Dubai—London, Glasgow, Madrid, San Francisco, Atlanta, Rio de Janeiro, Hong Kong—her parents go where the jobs take them. Ten cities in seven years, and she, at twelve years old, is tired. Finally, her parents send her back to Jeonju and lets her grandmother take over. It’s all the same to her. She walks in, two months into the school year, her newly purchased uniform immaculate—she doesn’t want to get it dirty when she is almost sure she would just have to return it in a few months. She shuffles down to her homeroom, hearing her grandmother’s voice, reminding her to smile. To make a good impression. Outside, she can hear the din of excited voices. Can almost picture the sea of nameless faces—she won’t remember them; they won’t remember her. She knows this. She’s been here too many times before. The teacher calls out to her—she smiles one more time, then braces herself for the murmurs. Her shaky fingers reach for the door—it never gets easier, not when she isn’t used to so much attention. They won’t remember her, she reminds herself one more time.

 

When they meet again, her eyes are on the pleats in her skirt. She is trying to remember to breathe, to look up when the teacher reads her name.

 

**Hyejin**

When they meet again, she has to remember to breathe. When she looks up and finds her eyes, she has to blink several times to see if she’s dreaming. There, at the front of the classroom, like a long forgotten dream, was the girl who disappeared. The girl who never failed to float in and out of her thoughts over the years, like the yellow dog that used to live beside her. She’s gawking, she knows, but she knows enough now to know that she finds her beautiful. Fascinating and beautiful, and she wants to get close. As the girl watches her, her fingers curl tight on top of her desk, as if clutching invisible fur. She recognizes the loneliness in her eyes, and the fleeting light when she took the cookie all those years ago, fingers brushing ever so slightly. She recognizes the slight parting of her lips, as if to say, “How did you find me?”

 

Finally, her heart sighs; finally, she found her.

 

**Wheein**

She blinks several times as she rattles off her well-rehearsed introduction. She doesn’t know what she is saying, but is certain it makes sense. She thinks instead of the girl at the centre of the room, watching her. She recognizes her, but from where? There is a sort of mutual confusion, a mutual fascination as they study each other, as if unsure whether the other truly exists. Why does she look so familiar? She takes in those dark, sparkling eyes beneath thick waves of hair, tamer now, but—could it be? The girl smiles, a wide, lazy smile. There are no cookies, but the smile warms her nonetheless.

 

She smiles back, as if to say, “I remember you.”

 

For now, that is good enough.

 

But as she walks by to take her seat, the girl takes her hand. She looks down in surprise—closer now, the girl is beautiful. The lazy smile turns into a grin, and her heart flutters for the first time in her life.


End file.
